


When Hell Freezes Over

by Gwenpools_Aesthetic



Series: WinterDevil/Big Gun Bromance [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Big Gun Bromance, Bucky Barnes & Clint Barton Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Frank Castle Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Shuri Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes and His Goats, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Clint Barton & Frank Castle Friendship, Drinking, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Hurt Bucky Barnes, I'm sorry it's such a slow burn, Like So Fluffy It Deserves That GIF of the Girl From Despicable Me and Her Unicorn, M/M, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Matt Murdock gets his ass kicked, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor Frank Castle/Karen Page, POV Alternating, Peter Parker Needs A Dad, Romantic Bucky Barnes, SO FLUFFY, Sassy Frank Castle, Slow Burn, Stucky Fistposting (Defrost) 2019, Stucky Fistposting Fic Challenge, really slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 61,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19118731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwenpools_Aesthetic/pseuds/Gwenpools_Aesthetic
Summary: "James Buchanan Barnes wanted to get drunk. That was it. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to process. He didn’t want to take a minute to think about it. He wanted to get drunk. Full stop."Bucky is out drinking to forget Steve. He is not interested in meeting someone else. Someone else didn't get the memo.Matt Murdock is trying to make up for lost time. This isn't what he had planned for.Chapter 1 was written for the Stucky Fistposting (Defrost) Fic Challenge Prompt #1: "Longing."





	1. Bucky

James Buchanan Barnes wanted to get drunk. That was it. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to process. He didn’t want to take a minute to think about it. He wanted to get drunk. Full stop.

He ordered a double whiskey before he was even seated at the bar. 

He didn’t want to think about Steve. Which was hard because he was in New York and everything in New York made him think about Steve.

He had known what was going to happen. Steve has come to him the night before getting on the pad, had asked what he thought. Yes, of course, he had said. Go. Be with her. Live your life. Be happy for once. 

For once. The words stabbed him like a knife. For once. As if Steve had never been happy before. 

The implication was clear. Steve had never been happy with him. 

“Another double,” he heard himself say. “Thank you ma’am. Could you just leave the bottle?”

She had given him a dirty look, but she’d left it nonetheless. 

Things had been wrong since the moment Bucky had… was woken up the right phrase? Came back? They were fighting that purple guy, and then something had felt wrong, and Steve was running towards him shouting his name, and Bucky had felt pins and needles like when you sit on your own foot for too long and you lose circulation. And then he was so tired that he had closed his eyes for just a minute, and when he’d opened them Steve had been gone. Bucky had been scared. He had called out to Steve - started to look for him. And then the wizard showed up and told Bucky it had been five years. Five Years! And the wizard opened a portal and Steve was there and he was facing down Thanos and all of Thanos’s army by himself. Because of course he fucking was. And Bucky was by his side in a minute, but Steve looked so tired. Bucky had never seen him look so tired. Even when he was swinging that glorious hammer (oh my god the hammer), it was like the spark was gone. Which was crazy because at that point the man was a literal lightning bolt. And then they had won, but they lost Tony, and Bucky had watched Steve slip even further away from him. 

Bucky filled his glass and drank again. 

That night, the night before he left, Steve had knocked on Bucky’s door, and in that moment Bucky had known that his Stevie was gone. Stevie never knocked on his door. His door was Stevie’s door. Only it wasn’t anymore and Bucky didn’t know how to deal with that. 

So he had said it. _Go be with her. Be happy for once in your life._

Bucky knocked back another. 

He hadn’t expected Steve to argue. Not really. What did he have to offer, anyway? He was broken. He didn’t know who he was anymore. What he was good for. He had done so many terrible things… what right did he have to expect love, much less Steve’s love? Plus he’d been gone so long: first as the Asset, then in stasis in Wakanda, and then Thanos. 

But part of him had held out hope that Steve would come to his senses. That Steve would realize that he did have something here, in the present. And then they could rest together. Finally together. Without having to be afraid of being found out. Without having to hide who they were. Finally. Together. Like they had dreamed of being back when they were kids. When all they needed to survive was each other. 

Steve could survive without him now. Steve had been surviving without him. But how could he survive without Steve? 

_Fuck._

Bucky slammed back another round. It burned. It felt good to feel something other than the ache in his heart. 

Bucky had held it together. He had smiled at Sam and the old man who had stolen his Stevie’s eyes. This wasn’t Sam’s fault. He liked Sam and Sam deserved this. He needed Sam to know he was ok with that part at least - with Sam carrying the shield - even if the rest of it was killing him. Then he had wandered the city aimlessly for a while. Well, no. Not wandered. He had stalked about the city for a while. And it wasn’t aimless, either. His aim was to lose his six tails. 

That weird smart Hulk and Thor had been the easiest to get rid of. Bucky didn’t know why they had even tried. Neither of them had any stealth. Sam and the wizard weren’t that much of a challenge, either. Although Bucky couldn’t prove that they weren’t now watching him on a magic ball or some shit like that. That spider-kid had been surprisingly hard to shake. Not that he was sneaky. The opposite, actually. The kid was loud as fuck and seemed real interested in having a conversation with Bucky. And a stupid conversation at that. Bucky had to admit that he still wasn’t 100% positive he’d lost Clint. He thought he did, but he knew Clint was craftier than the rest. Natalia had taught him well. On the other hand, Clint still seemed pretty shook up about Natalia, and Bucky suspected his spy game wasn’t quite on point. He was prepared to believe that Clint was gone too. 

After all was said and done he ended up not that far from the tower, in a part of New York he hadn’t frequented much before, at a cheap, dingy, poorly lit bar. There was a pool table in the back corner, but nobody was playing. In fact, there was only one patron besides himself - a man in dark pants and a light grey shirt sitting on the other end of the bar. He looked like he had just gotten off of work. Maybe a banker, Bucky thought? The man had his back turned to Bucky and was nursing a beer, eyes focused intently on the wall in front of him. He’s probably terrified of me. Bucky hadn’t bothered to dress for the occasion, and his metal arm was on full display in the black short-sleeved t-shirt. _He’ll down his beer and be on his way and then I can sulk in peace._

But the man didn’t leave. He continued to nurse his beer, and the woman working behind the bar brought him another as Bucky slammed down what he thought might be his 8th double, He was finally starting to feel it despite the fortifying effects of the super soldier serum coursing through his veins.

“We gonna have any trouble tonight?” the bartender asked, wiping up a small puddle Bucky had made on the bar. Bucky's hand was shaking. 

“No ma’am,” Bucky replied. “I’m just tryin’ to forget.”

“Wanna talk about it?” She sounded tired.

“Nope.”

“Good,” she huffed, and went back to cleaning. 

Bucky stared at the dirty mirror in front of him. It was covered in hand printed signs: ‘CASH ONLY. NO CARDS.’ ‘ABSOLUTELY NO TABS.’ ‘NO VISIBLY DRUNK PERSONS MAY ENTER.’

“He left.” Bucky said to himself in the mirror, surprised at his own voice. “I had just found him, and he left. He left and he made a new life without me. With a dame no less! I mean, Peggy’s peachy. She’s great as far as dames go...”

The bartender looked at Bucky over her shoulder, squinting her eyes. “You need me for this?” she asked.

Bucky grunted and was silent for a moment. The bartender turned back to her work.

“And what? Now he’s back and I’m just supposed to be fine? We’re just friends now? And I can’t even punch him because he’s…

“What am I supposed to do? Go back to watching goats?”

Another drink. 

Bucky stopped. The bartender, Josie, hadn’t even acknowledged his second outburst. He was talking to himself. He lowered his voice, the words coming out in a low, unceasing stream. Bucky couldn’t stop. He hoped he didn’t cry. He was the greatest assassins of all time, and he was about to cry in a Hell’s Kitchen bar. 

“God I miss him. He’s not even gone and I miss him more than if he weren’t even here. To have to look at him every day, like that, not mine. Someone else’s. Like a whole different person sittin’ there but with his eyes. Those fucking eyes. How’s he gonna sit there and stare at me with those eyes? And he thinks I’ll… thinks I won’t? Flaunting his life. His entire, long life of happiness. Without me. Left me to freeze… I’m nothin’ without him, and he’s gotten on so happy without me. A full life. And what do I have? Where do I go?”

Drink. 

“Those fucking eyes. Damn it, Stevie, why’d you gotta leave? Why’d you gotta come back? Why’d you believe me when I said it would be ok? What else was I supposed to say? Of course it’s not ok for you to leave me alone. How could you think it would be? But I can’t say no to you. You know I can’t say no. Never could say no to you, doll.”

Drink. 

“Guess this is the fucking end of the line.”

Drink. 

“I should sue.” it was barely a whisper. “Sue him for leavin’ me alone like this. Sue him for leavin’. Sue him for showing up again with those eyes.”

Bucky held his head in his hands. He sobbed once, blinking back tears. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you’d have a case pal.”

Bucky jerked his head up. The man at the end of the bar still hadn’t turned to look at him.

“Excuse me?” Bucky’s voice was not kind. 

“You can’t sue for a broken heart. I’m probably fortunate that’s the case.”

_How did he even hear me?_ Bucky wondered. “Oh yeah? You some kinda expert? I don’t remember asking ya’ anyway.”

“My apologies.” The man stood and Bucky saw him grab something leaning against the wall with his right hand. A weapon, maybe? Bucky felt his muscles tense, preparing for a fight. Good, Bucky thought. Fucking bring it on, asshole. You have no idea what you’re getting into. 

The man turned to walk towards him, and only then did Bucky realize why he’d been staring at a blank wall this whole time. The man was blind. Tapping his white cane in front of him, the man - who Bucky could now see was wearing round, red sunglasses and a loosened tie, walked close to where Bucky was sitting and held his hand out in Bucky’s general direction. “Matt Murdock,” the man introduced himself. “Attorney at Law.” 

Bucky didn’t move to shake the hand presented to him, and after a pause the man dropped it to his side. 

“I’m sorry. As criminal as it might be for someone to choose anyone over you, no law has been broken. You can’t sue.” The man's voice was silky. _Fucking lawyers,_ Bucky thought.

“There are, however, certainly other ways to get back at someone.” 

Was this fucker hitting on him?

In all Steve’s talk about why he was going to stay with Peggy (he was tired, he wanted to live his life, he could never be free in this time, they would never let him stop being Captain America, he would never let himself stop, it was killing him, he had lost too much, he couldn’t go on, he just needed to rest), he had never once asked Bucky what Bucky wanted. Not once. Which was probably for the best, because in that moment Bucky would have had no clue. All Bucky wanted in the world was to be with Steve. Without Steve, he wanted nothing. 

But now, standing here, Bucky knew what he wanted. His Stevie was gone and Bucky didn’t care what old man Steve thought about him and he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to do the one thing that he knew he was best at. Better than anyone else in the world. 

He was going to fucking murder this lawyer. 

Bucky rose from his chair. The smile dropped from the lawyer’s face. He took a step back. Bucky grinned and stepped closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This did not end how I thought it would. It was supposed to be sexy. Now Bucky is going to beat the shit out of my one true love, Matt Murdock. What have I done?!?! I might need to write more of this...


	2. Matt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stranger in the bar is clearly hurting, and Matt is just trying to be nice!

Matt Murdock was tired. Really, really tired. Bone-crushingly tired. More tired than he had ever been in his entire life, and that was saying a lot because he had stayed up for four nights straight while studying for the Bar. 

But he couldn’t sleep, so he went to Josie’s instead.

He was tired and he needed… something. Some unnamed thing that called to him in the darkness, had always called to him. Sometimes he answered it by fighting. Sometimes, he admitted to himself begrudgingly, he answered it by fucking. Just an overwhelming desire to reach out and make physical contact with the world around him. 

The world that had apparently ended.

“Keep ‘em coming, Jos’,” he had said, trying to keep his voice kind. The bar was empty except for the two of them. Josie nodded and patted his hand. That was about as comforting as she got, and Matt appreciated it.

Matt had been so confused when he woke up on the floor of his apartment. Foggy had been there. They had been talking. And then Matt… he didn’t remember getting hit in the head but he must have and it must have been bad because he passed out and when he woke up Foggy was gone. Then the alerts started all around him. Every single phone in Manhattan going off all at once. So many people shouting. It made his head spin. 

And then Foggy called him, and Matt answered, and Foggy was losing his goddamn mind. 

Five years. 

He was gone five years?

Matt drained his beer. Another appeared in front of him.

It had taken Foggy 25 minutes to get to Matt’s apartment, and before he got there Matt heard more than he could process. Two floors above him, parents were reuniting with their now adult children. One floor down, a husband was waking up to learn his wife was remarried to a woman. On the ground floor, and elderly woman was in an apartment that was no longer hers. The couple living there informed her that the man who had lived there before them - her husband - had died three years ago.

Two apartments over, a young boy had been calling for his mom. Matt knew the boy and his mother. The boy was three. Matt listened for a heartbeat. The mom wasn’t there. Matt didn’t know where she was. The boy was scared and alone. Instinct took over, and Matt ran out of his apartment and down the hall, breaking the apartment’s lock with his shoulder and pulling the little boy into his arms. The little boy remembered Matt, thankfully, and allowed himself to be held. Matt scanned the apartment and found it to be too clean, too empty. There was a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. Matt stood, lifting the boy with him, and walked over. Tracing the paper with his fingertips, Matt read the letter. A suicide note. Dated four years ago. Matt held the little boy close and said nothing.

 

Josie brought him a third beer. He drank half of it in one gulp.

Karen got there first and found him still on the floor of the boy’s apartment, tears rolling down his face. He handed her the note and she read it silently, tears filling her eyes, and then began to search the apartment. Foggy had called her too, apparently, and they were all meeting at Matt’s. By the time Foggy got there, Karen had found an address book and was working her way down. Grandparents were found, then arrived, and carried the little boy away. 

And then Foggy told them what happened. The full story.

50% of life on the planet. Jesus Christ. Matt, Karen, and Marci had all vanished, along with Foggy’s brother and both of his parents. Foggy’s boss, Jeri, had disappeared, along with Jessica and Colleen. Foggy apparently had been spending time with Luke and Danny, the three of them trying to help those remaining in whatever ways they could - legal or otherwise. 

In the end, Foggy just sat on the floor crying, while Matt and Karen took turns holding him like they had held the little boy. 

Matt finished his beer. Josie was there again. The bar was familiar. 

In the morning they had made plans for next steps, just like they always did. They set up shop first thing, working out of Matt’s apartment. They helped separated families and friends find each other. They settled disputes amongst property owners where one party had legally taken ownership while the other party was gone. They mediated family issues. They helped the little boy’s grandparents file adoption paperwork. All at no charge, of course, because how do you charge for something like that?

At night, Matt suited up and went out with Luke, Danny, Colleen, and Jessica. Things were surprisingly calm. Everything had changed so quickly, regardless of which side you had been on, and Matt expected New York to explode at any moment, but so far it hadn’t.

Even still, he couldn’t sleep. Every time he tried… every time he rested, Matt heard that sound.

Even after coming back, even including the little boy crying for a mother that would not be returning, that sound had been the worst thing. He had never heard anything that remotely compared. He had no words to explain it. He prayed that he never heard anything like it again. 

He hadn’t known what it was at the time, but he knew it was wrong. Unearthly. There were screams and panic and cars crashing and airplanes falling from the sky. But behind that was something much worse. Behind that was the sound of cells tearing apart and turning to soot.  
Conversation and yelling and heartbeats and breaths, suddenly replaced by a wave of emptiness. 

The sound of millions of people across New York simply ceasing to exist. 

Dust fluttering in the wind.

He could hear it getting closer, then and every night since. He could hear the nothingness coming for him. 

So, instead of sleeping, Matt patrolled. After two quiet nights his companions had started a shift rotation, but he had joined them even when it wasn’t his turn. Nobody questioned it.

Tonight, though, Jessica and Colleen told him he couldn’t come. Told him he had to stay home, get some rest, or they would kick his ass.

Matt almost took them up on it. He could use a good fight.

Or the other thing.

Matt had slowed down, and was nursing his beer with his back to the door when the stranger walked in. 

Matt didn’t turn, but he noticed the stranger immediately. How could he not? The stranger moved like a cat; his muscles rippling in waves across his entire body. He stalked from the door to the bar, taking a seat heavily. Matt could sense his hardened bulk. It wasn’t just the muscularity of his frame, which resonated like an oak beam in a heritage building that had set over time, but each ligament and sinew in the man was finely honed and ready - ready to attack at any given moment. The stranger had at least 14 knives hidden on his body. 

His arm… Matt tilted his head, turning his left ear to the stranger. His arm was… Matt had no idea what it was. It was as if the arm was a small black hole, drawing its own sound and energy back into itself. Matt could think of nothing like it. He suspected it had an alien origin. Nothing on earth sounded quite like that. Underneath, though, Matt could sense it whirring, as if it were mechanical. Matt thought he heard clicks of metal plates shifting on themselves. 

There was something different about the stranger’s nervous system, too. His heartbeat and breathing were… wrong was the only word Matt could assign to it. They were both too fast and too slow at the same time. Doing too much, but not working hard enough to do it. Matt wasn’t sure the stranger was human. If he was, he was certainly enhanced. Powered? What word was even proper for people like him these days? He searched, and then realized that even if he remembered, it wouldn’t matter because it had probably changed over the past five years. The stranger’s body sounded like a symphony where every instrument was just a tiny bit off tune: jarring and cacophonous, but eerily beautiful. 

Despite all that, possibly the most confusing thing about the stranger was his hair. It smelled like… was that peanut oil? Surely this guy had heard of hair products!

To her great credit, Josie took the whole thing in stride. Matt wondered if she had been here during the five years, or if she was one of the vanished too. There would be no way to know without asking her, and Matt certainly wasn’t going to ask. She acted as if literally nothing had changed; as if Matt had been sitting in his same stool a week ago, which was exactly how it felt to him. 

Josie didn’t blink when the stranger asked to keep the bottle of whiskey that he was drinking too much of, too quickly.

She didn’t react when the stranger started to cry.

She didn’t respond when the stranger started talking to himself. 

Matt kept his back turned as the stranger went on. He’d heard it all before over the past week. Apparently he had vanished, and his boyfriend had hooked up with a woman - _did he really just use the word dame? Jesus where was this guy from?_ \- while he was gone.

But the more Matt listened to him, the more he felt drawn into the stranger’s story. It didn’t make sense. He kept saying that his boyfriend “came back.” Came back from where? If the boyfriend had vanished, then when did he hook up with the dame? _Woman,_ Matt corrected himself in his head. And he kept going on about the boyfriend’s eyes. 

The stranger’s voice was so broken. There was a hitch in his throat when he talked; a catch in his breath when he caught himself and choked back his tears. Matt wanted to go to him, to hold him like he had done with Foggy and the young boy. Matt wanted the stranger to know that he wasn’t alone.

 _That’s not how this works,_ Matt thought. _That’s not how any of this works._

So Matt sat with his back to the stranger. He sat, and he listened, and he drank the beers that Josie brought to him. And he listened to the stranger’s heartbeat. From across the room, he tasted the salt of the stranger’s tears.

And when the stranger gave him an opening, he took it.

“I should sue.” It was barely a whisper. “Sue him for leavin’ me alone like this. Sue him for leavin’. Sue him for showing up again with those eyes.”

The man started crying again.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you’d have a case pal.”

“Excuse me?” The stranger’s voice was not kind. Matt didn’t turn to face him. He tried to stay aloof in a way he had learned was charming. It didn’t feel right, but it had worked before.

“You can’t sue for a broken heart.” Matt paused. Jesus the irony in that line. How many women had he left behind who probably wished that wasn’t true. What the fuck was he even doing? His voice broke a little. “I’m probably fortunate that’s the case.”

“Oh yeah? You some kinda expert? I don’t remember asking ya’ anyway.”

“My apologies,” Matt was genuinely sorry. This wasn’t the way it should be going, but now he was committed. Matt Murdock the devil-may-care charmer had taken over. It was as much of a mask as his other one, and just as hard to take off. Matt rose and grabbed his cane where it was leaning against the wall. Walking towards the stranger, he shifted the cane into his left hand and held out his right. “Matt Murdock,” he introduced himself. “Attorney at Law.” 

The stranger didn’t move to shake Matt’s hand, and Matt felt himself starting to sweat. It was hard to read this guy’s heart rate, but Matt was pretty sure it was climbing. The stranger’s arm wasn’t just swallowing its own sound and energy, it was pulling everything back into itself. It was warping Matt’s perception. The room was just slightly off kilter. Matt dropped his hand to his side and tried to smile even harder.

“I’m sorry. As criminal as it might be for someone to choose anyone over you, no law has been broken. You can’t sue.” _Ugh._ He willed himself to stop. _Why are you like this, Matt? It costs zero dollars not to be like this. Stop being a tool and make a real connection!_ “There are, however, certainly other ways to get back at someone.” 

_Damnit, Matt. You really are the worst._

He heard the man’s heart pounding, pulse climbing. 

Faster.

Louder.

Matt could feel the stranger shaking in front of him. When the stranger finally rose from his barstool, Matt felt all of his muscles flex. It shook the air in the room. Matt was surprised that the force of it didn’t knock his breath out or break the bottles behind the bar. 

_Oh shit,_ Matt thought. 

The stranger took a step towards him. Matt took a step backwards. He had made a mistake. He had made several.

_This guy is going to kill me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was supposed to be a one-shot, but I guess it's not anymore! Thank you so much to everyone who read chapter 1 and suggested I keep this thing going. My plan is to post every Friday, and I'm thinking this should be about 10-12 ish chapters total? Please leave kudos and comments, because without attention I shrivel up and die. 
> 
> Also I'm going to try to keep this as MCU/Netflix compliant as possible, but that might all just fall apart when Jessica Jones S3 and Spider-Man Far From Home drop. I will do my best!!


	3. Matt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More notes at the end BUT!!!
> 
> Thank you so much to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat for helping me when I'm stuck, editing, and being my muse.

Matt raised his hands and took a few steps backwards. The stranger immediately followed. Matt could feel the stranger trembling, his muscles flexing, his hands clenching and unclenching. 

The way Matt saw it, he had two options. He could blow his cover and move in ways no blind man should move, or he could get his head knocked off. Probably literally. 

He was leaning towards the former.

Matt continued walking backward, moving towards the door. He took his glasses, placing them on a bar table. He’d get them back later if he didn’t die in the next 5 minutes. Maybe nobody would recognize him. At the very least, he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that a blind man was fighting on the street corner. He snapped his white cane shut and held it tightly in his hand. 

Matt heard Josie clear her throat.

“Put all the drinks on my tab, Josie,” he called out. “His too, ok?”

She grunted her agreement.

Matt backed out the door

The autumn night was crisp. If Matt hadn’t been told that the world had ended, he would have noticed right now that something was wrong. The air smelled cleaner than it should. Less polluted. Matt could hear each individual leave rustling drily in the wind. There weren’t enough cars; not for New York. There was nobody on the block. Matt reached out further. Three, four blocks. Empty. Everyone in their homes, still reuniting, mostly coping. _It was actually kind of lovely,_ Matt thought. _Maybe that Thanos guy did some goo…_

The stranger swung at him. The fist coming at his face moved faster than the Hand. The stranger put more force behind his punches than Fisk. The stranger was as wild and as focused as Elektra. Matt didn’t have time to reconsider his options. Instinct took over. He ducked. 

The stranger paused briefly, then he chuckled.

The blows started coming faster and Matt put up his arms, deflecting the punches coming from the stranger’s right hand and avoiding those coming from his left. Matt still wasn’t sure what that arm was made of, but he was pretty sure it was some kind of metal and he didn’t want it anywhere near him. Not like this, anyway. 

The stranger hit him squarely in the right shoulder and Matt staggered back. He threw the cane, aiming it straight at the stranger’s head. The stranger caught it with his non-flesh hand, regarded it briefly, and then crushed it.

Matt heard it splinter. _Well shit,_ he thought. 

The stranger rushed him and Matt ducked, catching the stranger with his shoulder and flipping the man over and onto his back. The stranger kicked out, knocking Matt’s feet out from under him. Both men rolled back through their shoulders and sprung up to their feet. The stranger was faster, and Matt felt the stranger’s arms picking him up and throwing him backwards against a wall. The stranger’s left hand was hard and had seams at the joints. Matt tasted the air around the arm. It had a metallic tang, but something else too. Earthy, maybe? There was none of the wiring and electricity crackling around it that he felt when he was close to Misty’s arm. Instead, it almost felt like it was alive; like there was life crawling inside of it. _Definitely metal, but what’s powering it?_ Matt thought to himself, as he wiped blood off the corner of his mouth and crouched, ready for more. 

The stranger swung again and Matt ducked out of the way, spinning around the corner into the narrow alley behind Josie's. The metal hand seemed to deaden the sound around it, and Matt found himself listening for the pocket of nothingness more than sensing the arm itself. The stranger hit the wall of the building behind Matt, and stone crumbled around his metal fist. Matt quickly backed three steps down the alley. The stranger rushed him, and at the last minute Matt sprung to the side running three steps up the brick wall before flipping and catching the stranger’s shoulder with a kick. The stranger laughed as he took two steps backward, then he leapt at Matt. Matt held up his arms, blocking most of the blows from his head, listening. The stranger took a breath and Matt used the pause to move, raining punches down on the stranger’s chest and ears. He felt the stranger shudder and then strike out, and holy shit, the stranger caught one of his Matt’s fists with his metal hand, gripping it. Matt felt the vibrations of the metal hand, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The hand was cold. It was harder than any other metal Matt had ever felt, and he felt its small plates shifting around his fist. Matt could feel the hand pulse with energy from within. His eyes widened. He felt the muscles of the stranger’s face twitch and he knew the man was baring his teeth - half grin and half snarl. The stranger smelt like sorrow and rage and a lot of whiskey, but his heartbeat was steady. He wasn't even working up a sweat. 

Matt twisted again, kicking his feet up and breaking free of the stranger’s grip, landing on top of a dumpster. With a rush of air, the stranger jumped up to join him. He was moving faster than should be possible and Matt didn’t have time to get out of the way. The stranger picked Matt up by the neck, squeezing him with the metal hand and Matt felt his airway being closed. He choked and sputtered. The stranger threw him off the dumpster, further down the alley and Matt landed on his back, rolling, and finally resting with his head on a metal fire escape ladder. Matt saw stars. He struggled to breathe, and loosened and then removed his tie, holding it to his side. The stranger stalked towards him, and Matt could hear the air ripple as the stranger closed the distance between them. 

Matt grunted, and at the last possible second he rolled to the side, reaching up with the tie in his hands, wrapping the tie around the stranger’s wrists, trapping the strangers legs between his own, twisting, and bringing the stranger down onto his back.

Matt knew he was outmatched. He had to get out of here or he was going to end up dead. He struggled to his feet as quickly as he could, but the stranger was right behind him, dragging him back down. Matt hit him in the nose with a reverse headbutt, and the stranger growled and pushed Matt forward. The force of the growl sent vibrations through Matt’s entire body. He had to get away. He pushed down into the depths of himself, closing off everything else, wrapping his senses around only the stranger. Matt screamed a primal scream, rushing the stranger, slamming into him as hard as he could. The stranger fell backwards, hitting his head on the dumpster. Matt grabbed the stranger and slammed his head into the dumpster three times, until he was sure the man was unconscious. 

Matt leapt up a fire escape, climbing as fast as he could to the roof of a five story building. As Matt reached the top of the building, he heard the stranger rise. Quickly, Matt pushed up onto the roof and ran, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. He heard metal on metal as the stranger climbed the fire escape behind him. Matt didn’t look back. He rolled across a rooftop and slid through an open skylight, pulling it closed behind him as he fell, and dropping to the floor of an abandoned warehouse. He flattened himself to the ground, feeling the coolness of shadows around him, slowing his heart and calming his breath. 

The footsteps of the stranger were heavy and angry on the rooftop above him as the man paced back and forth, trying to figure out where Matt had gone. Matt heard the stranger sniff the air. He felt the metal fingers clenching and unclenching. The stranger made a show of climbing down the fire escape, then lingered in the shadows outside the warehouse for just over three hours while Matt waited, spread out on the cold wooden floor, assessing his injuries and meditating to help the healing process. Finally, as dawn was breaking, the stranger sulked away. Matt focused on the arm, following it for much further than his normal range. He lost it at Chamber’s Street, where the stranger caught the C train and was gone.

Matt stood up slowly. The stranger hadn’t done any permanent damage. Matt’s ribs were already starting to heal. He was stiff, but that was mostly thanks to hours spent lying motionless on the cold, damp floor. He spat, but the blood he tasted came from inside his mouth and not somewhere deeper. Matt cracked his shoulders and scratched the back of his neck. “Time?” he asked his phone. No response. He ran his fingers across the screen. _Shit,_ he thought. _Broken._ Foggy would probably be looking for him soon. 

Trying to attract as little attention as possible, Matt staggered home. 

As he walked, he listened for the arm. He thought, if the stranger got close, he would hear it. The sound of whirring doubling back into itself. Into nothingness. 

_There was something about that arm, _he thought as he walked. _Something he should know. An enhanced man with a metal arm. There had been a news story a few years back…_ Matt’s head hurt.__

__He stumbled into his apartment and was relieved to learn that it wasn’t even 6 yet. He washed the blood off of his face and knuckles and collapsed, fully clothed, into bed. _Metal that absorbs vibrations…_ his mind shouted at him, as a different kind of blackness enveloped it and Matt fell sound asleep._ _

__He woke up to Foggy shouting._ _

__“MATT! MATT WHERE ARE YOU?!? DAMN IT MATT!!”_ _

__“I’m here,” he called out and his voice caught in his throat. His vocal cords were swollen from the stranger’s grip. It hurt to talk and it hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. Matt hoisted himself out of bed and threw the bedroom door open. “I’m here, buddy,” he choked out. “Sorry, I was asleep.”_ _

__“Jesus, what happened to you?” Foggy had the ability to sound both concerned and angry at the same time. “I thought you weren’t going out last night?”_ _

__“I didn’t.” Matt coughed. “I mean,” he sat down on the couch and held his head in his hands. “I mean, I did, but Daredevil didn’t.”_ _

__“Then what’s all this about? Matt, you look like shit.”_ _

__“Thanks man.” Matt paused. “I got into a bar fight, I guess.”_ _

__“You got… You? Matt Murdock? The lawyer? My partner… my BLIND partner. You got into a bar fight?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__Foggy was silent._ _

__“Please don’t give me that look,” Matt said._ _

__“You have literally no idea what look I’m giving you.”_ _

__“I kind of do.” Matt stood up and walked into his kitchen, grabbing three aspirin and pouring himself a glass of water. He took all three aspirin in one swallow. “I went to Josie’s,” Matt said, walking back to the couch and lying down, stretching out his sore legs. “I had a few beers and then this guy walked in and…”_ _

__“What did you say to him, Matt?”_ _

__“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, alright? The wrong thing.” _TELL HIM ABOUT THE ARM,_ Matt’s brain screamed at him. “Foggy, I think I knew this guy. Something about him was really familiar.” Matt heard Foggy start to brew some coffee in the kitchen. “He was… he was enhanced I think. His metabolism was off. Something was wrong with his heart. He was really strong. And fast.” Matt took another drink of his water._ _

__“And I think he had a metal arm.”_ _

__“A metal… Jesus fucking Christ, Matt. Did you get into a bar fight with the Winter Soldier?”_ _

__“Who?” Matt asked. The name sounded vaguely familiar._ _

__“Seriously? It was, what…” Foggy paused, counting to himself, “seven years ago? Or, I guess only two for you. Two years, Matt! He blew up the UN building in Vienna; turned out to be that war hero, Bucky Barnes; caused the Avengers to fall apart? You remember none of this? He’s the reason Captain America became a criminal, right? Because it was his friend, that war hero? I know you remember that. You cried for like three weeks.”_ _

__“I didn’t cry…” Matt protested._ _

__“Come on, Matt. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?!?”_ _

__“You’re the smart one, Foggy,” Matt said forcing a smile. “I’m the pretty one. Everybody knows that.”_ _

__“Jesus Christ, Matt.” Foggy handed Matt a cup of coffee. It was too hot. Matt took a sip anyway._ _

__“Didn’t that guy die, anyway?”_ _

__“That was the official story, yeah. But Matt…”_ _

__“Are we getting into conspiracy theory here? Or have Captain America and Bucky Barns been running around keeping everyone safe for the past five years.”_ _

__“Captain America has,” Foggy said._ _

__Matt perked up. “He’s good again?”_ _

__“Yeah. We’ve had bigger things to worry about than vigilantism.”_ _

__“That’s good to hear. And speaking of vigilantism!” Matt gestured to the door. “Come on in!” he shouted_ _

__There was a pause, and then the door opened. “Hey man,” Danny’s smile dropped. “Dude, what happened to you?”_ _

__“He got into a bar fight with the Winter Soldier,” Foggy answered matter-of-factly._ _

__“Wait, what now?”_ _

__“I didn’t…” Matt sighed. “I got into a small altercation with a man who appeared to be enhanced and had a metal arm. It’s really not a big deal. I feel a lot better already.”_ _

__“Tell me about the arm,” Danny said quietly, sitting down next to him._ _

__“It… it was different. It didn’t sound anything like Misty’s arm.”_ _

__“What was it made out of? What kind of metal?”_ _

__“I have no idea. Nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I almost couldn’t get a read on it. It messed with my other senses, like it was pulling the sound in? I know that sounds crazy. Maybe I was drunker than I thought?” Matt dropped his head into his hands._ _

__“Or maybe it was a kind of metal that absorbs vibrations?” Danny asked._ _

__“What?” Matt lifted his head. “What does that?”_ _

__“Vibranium,” Danny and Foggy answered in unison._ _

__Matt blinked at them._ _

__“Matt,” Foggy spoke after a long pause. “If the Winter Soldier is trying to kill you, that’s a bad thing.”_ _

__Foggy and Danny exchanged worried looks. Matt faced the wall, expression blank._ _

__“Shit.” Matt finally said. “I told him my name.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I think about late at night:
> 
> What does vibranium taste like?  
> What does Nanotechnology feel like?  
> How drunk would Bucky need to be for Matt to actually beat him in a fight? 
> 
> Also, I watched the S3 hallway fight like four times in slow motion to prepare for this. It was hot. I highly recommend that as a way to start your day, if you ever feel like spending the entire day walking around feeling aroused and violent. 
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE leave comments and kudos and whatnot! I need them to survive. Chapter 4 is basically finished, but I'm holding it hostage until next Friday because Chapter 5 is being a little bitch and I want to make sure I'm able to give you a chapter every Friday. If I can get a few extra banked, I'll start dropping them closer together. I guarantee, your comments will help me with that.


	4. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to get to do post 4 right on the heels of 3, since they are very much a set. 
> 
> Thanks again to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat!

The blind lawyer took a few steps backwards. Bucky stepped towards him, pushing into his space. He wanted the man to know he was right there. Thanks to the serum, Bucky could hear the man’s heart pounding in his chest. The man was scared, but not as scared as he should be and Bucky wanted to change that. 

Bucky felt rage boiling up inside him. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a small voice screamed that the anger was misdirected. That he was mad at Steve and not this man. That he was better than this!

Bucky pushed the voice down. 

The man continued to walk backwards, and Bucky watched with amusement as he took off his glasses and folded up his cane. Was he going to try to fight? Jesus, this man had no clue did he? 

The bartender cleared her throat.

“Put the drinks on my tab, Josie,” the man said to her. “His too, ok?”

_Fucking rich lawyers think they can buy everyone off. Good luck with that, buddy._  
The man backed out the door, and Bucky followed him outside.

Bucky felt like he was back in his youth, before the war, when Steve was tiny and perfect and his. The streets of New York were calm, and the early autumn air was cool. Bucky was waiting outside a bar in Brooklyn. Tommy Ballinger had called Steve a fairy, and Bucky had met him outside the Dew Drop Inn and beat the shit out of him. 

Bucky swung his fist at the blind lawyer, but he was swinging just as much at Tommy. They were the same. Both had disrespected Stevie. Both had to learn a lesson.

The man ducked.

Bucky blinked in disbelief, and then laughed quietly to himself. 

He was faking? What kind of monster pretended to be blind? _Good,_ Bucky thought. _Now I don’t have to go easy on him._ He lunged at the man, who moved like a boxer, blocking most of Bucky’s blows and dodging the others. The man was fast, but Bucky was faster and the man staggered back when Bucky’s flesh hand made contact with the man’s shoulder. The man threw his folded-up cane and Bucky was momentarily impressed. The man threw hard, with good aim, and the cane spun right towards Bucky’s face.

Bucky caught it easily with his vibranium hand. He considered it for a moment, then crushed it to splinters.

Bucky growled and ran towards the man, and was taken by surprise when the man caught him in the gut with his shoulder and flipped Bucky over. Bucky landed hard on his back then kicked out with his feet, knocking the man to the ground. Bucky sprung to his feet, and the man quickly joined him. Bucky picked the man up and threw him backwards into the brick building. The stranger shook his head briefly, as if to clear it, and then settled into a boxer’s stance. Bucky was impressed. The man could clearly take a punch. 

Bucky swung again, and his eyes widened in shock as the man spun away and his metal fist collided with a brick wall. _Who the fuck is this guy?_ The man retreated down the alley, and Bucky ran after him, ready to knock him to the ground. Then, without warning, Bucky felt the man’s foot hit his shoulder. He had flipped off the wall! Bucky laughed out loud in shock. _Jesus Christ, is this guy a ninja or something?_ Bucky rained blows down on him, and the man held up his hands to protect his head. The man’s eyes were wide and, Bucky noticed with confusion, unfocused. As Bucky attacked, he watched the man tilt his head to the side. _What is he…?_ The man hit Bucky, and then again, and then again. The force of it surprised Bucky. It was like fighting with Clint or Sam; the man wasn’t as strong as him or Steve, but he was strong. And he knew how to fight. Bucky took a moment to analyze the man’s fighting style. Then he reached out his vibranium hand and grabbed the man’s fist mid punch. Bucky bared his teeth in a snarl.  
The man twisted again, breaking out of Bucky’s grip and springing up on top of a dumpster. Bucky smiled wide and leapt after him. He picked the man up by the neck, squeezing him just hard enough to hurt him but not enough to do permanent damage. He was enjoying this too much, and wasn’t ready for it to end. If he was being totally honest with himself, this man was starting to remind him a bit of pre-serum Steve. Not in size, of course, but in spirit. He didn’t seem to know when to back down from a fight. Bucky threw the man like a rag doll, and the man rolled until he rested against the wall of a building. Bucky jumped off the dumpster, grinning wide, and walked slowly towards the man, finally taking the time to really look at him. The man was strong, but not bulky. He had dark hair and a five-o-clock shadow. His eyes were dark and, Bucky noticed again, unfocused. Bucky wondered if he had given the man a concussion. The man was gasping, and Bucky watched him take off his tie and drop it to his side. A cross on a chain came untucked from under the man’s shirt. He was handsome, Bucky admitted to himself. The man’s lip and knuckles were bleeding, and a bruise was already forming above his left eyebrow. Bucky allowed himself to admire the man for a half a second, then reached down to haul him to his feet. 

In a blur, the man reached out with the not-so-discarded tie and wrapped it firmly around Bucky’s wrists. The man trapped Bucky’s legs with his own and twisted, bringing Bucky down to the ground. 

Bucky was momentarily shocked, and he paused just long enough for the man to slip away. He jumped up, still distracted by his own surprise, and grabbed the man from behind. He felt the man rear forward and, before he could react, the back of the man’s head was slamming into the front of his own. Bucky growled and pushed the man forward. The man wailed, spinning around to face Bucky, and then ran at him and slammed into him with his shoulders, head down. Bucky fell backwards, his head slamming into the dumpster. He saw stars. The man grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the dumpster two more times. Bucky’s vision went black.

When he opened his eyes, the man was gone. Bucky paused, listening. No, not gone. There, scrambling to the top of the building. Bucky shook the hair out of his eyes and began climbing the fire escape, quickly, following the man. He reached the top just in time to see the man leap off of the roof two buildings down. Bucky pursued, leaping easily from rooftop to rooftop, then down to the roof of the warehouse that he had last seen the man jump onto. Bucky paused. The man was gone. He listened. He smelled the air. The man had just been there. Bucky paced the building’s rooftop, looking for clues as to where the man had gone. There was a closed skylight, and Bucky tried it. Locked. He peered down into the darkness and saw nothing. 

Bucky explored the neighboring rooftops before doubling back to the warehouse. The man was here. He knew it. He climbed noisily down the fire escape, and then melted into the shadows, waiting. He checked himself for injuries. Maybe a minor concussion from the dumpster, and it was already starting to heal itself. Nothing more. As dawn started to break, he finally retreated. He walked to Chamber’s street, then caught the C train and rode it across the East River, getting off at High Street and walking through the park. Absentmindedly, he ended up at the War Memorial. He walked around it, as he had many times before, finding his name and Steve’s. He wished they were next to each other. 

His head was already clear, neither the alcohol or the blunt head trauma holding any effect over him for very long. The sun was starting to peek above the horizon. The park was empty, but Bucky knew that Brooklyn would be rising soon. He felt exposed, his arm out on full display. He felt raw. He had been distracted by the man, which had left him vulnerable. He felt guilt, and then quickly brushed it aside. He didn’t owe the man anything. He didn’t owe Steve anything! Steve had left him, not the other way around, and now Steve had no right to say who he could or could not fight. Or who he could and could not be attracted to. 

Bucky walked briskly home. 

As he walked, he thought about the man and the way he had fought. He wondered how he could bring it up to Sam and the rest of the team. _There were vigilantes,_ he thought, _in New York. The spider-kid had been one of them. Maybe he knows this guy._

Bucky reached his apartment building just as the sun was rising above the buildings. He let himself in and made himself a pot of coffee. He started some bacon and scrambled some eggs. Sam would be by soon, to remind him to eat. He wished Sam would stop dropping by all the time to see if he was ok; he wasn’t ok and he didn’t want to pretend. But he would eat. Maybe if he was eating when Sam got here, Sam wouldn’t feel the need to stop by every day at meal time.

He was just finishing when Sam rang the door. 

Bucky buzzed him in, and then waited by the door. Sam tapped out the secret knock on the door, so that Bucky would know it was him, but Bucky still peeked at him through the peephole, just to be sure.

“Hey, man. How goes… what the hell happened to you? Where’d you end up last night?” Sam offered as a greeting, noticing Bucky’s disheveled state. “I lost you in Central Park.”

“Some bar in Hell’s Kitchen,” Bucky shrugged. “Met a guy.” He suddenly wished he had cleaned up instead of eating. Now Sam would be by again tomorrow morning for sure.

“You look like shit.”

“Wow, thanks. Really. That means a lot coming from you.”

“There’s not…” Sam suddenly looked around frantically. He dropped his voice. “He's not still here, is he?”

“What?” Bucky glared at him, frowning. “What do you… no. No, Sam. I got into a fight. I didn’t… What’s wrong with you?”

“Pity,” Sam said, setting a bag of groceries down on the table. “I’m glad to see you’re eating.” Sam paused, Bucky’s words finally sinking in. “Wait, you got into a fight? Christ, JB. How’s the other guy? Did you kill him? Do we need to get backup for this?”

“He’s fine, I think.” Bucky started to unpack the groceries. “He got away.”

“He… he got away? How drunk were you?”

“I was pretty drunk,” Bucky smiled. He shook his head and immediately was serious again. “But this guy, he could fight. He knew what he was doing. He held his own.”

“Against you?”

“I was going easy on him?”

Sam poured Bucky another cup of coffee, and Bucky took it thankfully.

“He was pretending to be blind,” Bucky said after taking a sip.

“What?”

“Yeah. At the bar. It was the strangest thing. He had the glasses and the stick… but then I went to hit him and…”

“You were going to hit a blind man?”

“That’s not really the point, Sam.”

“I mean, it kind of is.”

Bucky shook his head again. “Well it doesn’t matter, because I went to hit him and he ducked. He wasn’t blind. And he knew how to fight, and how to take a punch. By the end, I wasn’t going easy on him at all. And he still managed to get away.”

“Notice anything else about him?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “The bartender seemed to know him. She brought him beers without his asking. He was wearing a suit. Said he was a lawyer. He fought like a boxer. He had weird eyes, like I gave him a concussion, but I don’t think I did.”

“Weird eyes?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, like glazed over. He did this weird thing with his head, too.” Bucky leaned his head to the side, imitating the move he had seen the man do several times.

“Like he was listening.” Sam wasn’t asking. There was a pause, then “Why’d you try to punch him, anyway?”

Bucky ducked his head.

“Might be important?” Sam offered.

Bucky muttered something under his breath.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“He hit on me, ok.” Bucky was louder than he wanted to be.

Sam choked back a laugh and Bucky glared at him.

Both men were silent for a moment. Finally, Sam spoke.

“Do you think we should find him?”

Bucky shrugged. “Probably. Keep an eye on him at least. See what side he’s on.”

“Ok, how do we find him again? He’s probably not stupid enough to return to the same bar.”

Bucky smiled, suddenly remembering. “He told me his name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone for reading!! I'm not on a new posting schedule - still shooting for every Friday - but I really needed to write 3 and 4 together, and 5 is getting itself under control, so I thought I would give you 4 right away. 
> 
> I don't plan on doing both viewpoints for every chapter, but I found this to be a really fun exploration of both men and how they perceive things. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> As always, please leave comments and kudos, because they sustain me. <3 (Honestly, in a round-about way, one comment on Chapter 3 fixed Chapter 5 for me. You cannot believe how much I appreciate everyone!)


	5. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is amiss in Bed-Stuey, and Clint and Bucky make a new... friend?

“Okay, this looks bad.”

Clint Barton was standing on a street corner in Bed-Stuy at dawn. Twelve dead bodies lay at his feet, each with one single bullet hole in the middle of its forehead. He looked over at Bucky, who nodded his agreement.

“Bad,” Bucky echoed. “Worst one yet.”

“They hardly had time to react,” Sam swooped down, landing on Bucky’s other side. Steve’s shield was strapped to Sam’s arm. By reflex, Clint glanced at Bucky out of the corner of his eye, scanning him for any signs of a nervous breakdown. He seemed ok. _Guy is taking it a lot better than I would be,_ Clint thought. Bucky noticed Clint staring and glared at him, shaking his head. Clint shrugged. “Four of them are still sitting at the table,” Sam continued. “They didn’t even have time to get up.”

“Who could have done this?” Clint asked.

“Me,” Bucky offered. “You, probably.”

“Not my MO, man.”

“No, but you could have. If you wanted to.” Bucky paused. “Anyone trained by the Red Room.” He didn’t say Natasha’s name. Clint knew Bucky wanted to, though. They were both thinking it. She could have done this. After the funeral, after they’d had some time to process, and after a lot of drinking, Bucky had told Clint all about Red Skull - Schmidtt as Bucky called him. It was all just a bit too mystical for Clint’s taste. Too much magic. That was the only thing he really disliked about being with the Avengers - all the magic. Things were easier, back when it was just him and Nat. Somebody got dead, they stayed that way. Now... Clint looked over at Bucky. He thought about Laura. He was thankful, but it was so hard to move on. Dead didn’t always mean dead; he knew that first hand.

He didn’t want to think about Nat doing something like this, though.

“I know this one,” Clint said, poking one of the bodies with his foot. “Worked for some Russians who came after me one time. Low level.”

“These two were Hydra, I think,” Bucky gestured at two bodies. One had fallen on top of the other. They almost looked like they were cuddled up in their sleep.

“More Hydra over here, too,” Sam added. “Plus the Yakuza. Plus the Triad. Plus the Russians. Just like the others. Somebody is cleaning house.”

“This one is different, though,” Clint shook his head. They had been finding dead bodies for the past week - always the same. Small groups, five or six people, all shot to hell. Blood and bullet holes everywhere. But not this time. He continued: “Cleaner. Less destruction. Plus short range. Other ones, the bullets were coming from across the street. This time they walked right into the middle of everyone.”

“So we got a new player.” Sam said. “Ok. Great. What else do we know?”

The three men looked around.

They stood in silence for a moment, taking the scene it. It was a lot, even for Clint. And he’d basically seen it all at this point. _Been the cause of it all, too._

“I don’t know,” Clint said after a moment. “It seems almost too clean. Look at these shots. Each one is perfect. Whoever did this… it’s like they were showing off.”

“I’ll call it in,” Sam’s voice turned official as he began walking away. “Nothing for us to do here anyway. We’ll get some fresh eyes on it. It’s late, or, I guess early?” The sun was starting to rise, peeking out around the low Brooklyn buildings. “Go home. Get some rest.” Then, as an afterthought, “Bucky, you find anything out about your lawyer friend?”

“Clean so far,” Bucky replied.

“Good. Stay on him.”

 _Who?_ Clint asked with his eyes.

“Later,” Bucky responded. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

Clint looked up, frustrated. _Everyone’s so distracted these days._ It was all too much, too soon. There was no time to think, or reflect or rebuild. Just react. Clint rubbed his forehead, and that’s when he saw it, just for a second. A flash of light on the top of a nearby building. He casually turned back to Bucky. “You want to go back to my place, get some pizza like usual?”

Clint had never invited Bucky over for pizza before. 

Bucky stared at him, blankly. Clint looked back to the building with his eyes only. Bucky’s eyes followed. His expression changed just slightly. Clint knew he saw it, too. Just the slightest glint of sunlight on metal. 

“Yeah, man,” Bucky replied. “You want to head back to your nest first and pick up? Last time it was such a disaster; it ruined my appetite. I’ll let myself up in a minute?”

Clint nodded. It was set. Clint would go high, and Bucky would go low.

The two men converged on the rooftop. The third man was sitting there, cleaning a gun. “Took ya’ long enough.”

Bucky and Clint exchanged glances. “We were trying to sneak up on you,” Clint finally said.

“Very sneaky,” the man replied, deadpan.

“So, you wanted us to see you?” Clint asked. 

The man sighed. He didn’t speak, but his meaning was clear in his face: _You’re not the brightest two Avengers, are you?_

Bucky and Clint looked at each other again, Bucky’s brow furrowing. Clint looked down at the rooftop and kicked at an invisible stone. 

The man stood. Bucky grabbed a knife. Clint unsheathed an arrow. The man raised his hands in the air. “Not here to fight, fellas. If I wanted to, I could have picked you off while you were still on the ground.” 

“Yeah, that’s reassuring,” Clint muttered. 

“Then why are we here?” Bucky asked at the same time. He sounded defensive. 

The man sighed again. He seemed to be mulling it over in his head, as if he had made the decision to call them up there and was now regretting it. “I need your help,” he finally answered. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Bucky asked. 

“You can call me Pete.” 

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck you want, but that’s not your name,” Clint said, looking the man over. “I know you.” 

The man, not Pete, stared at him. 

“I saw your picture on the news. You’re uh… Castle. Frank Castle. You’re the Punisher. Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” 

“Lotta that going around, I guess.” Frank nodded at Bucky. 

Bucky grunted. 

Clint shuddered. “What happened here?” 

“Don’t know,” Frank responded. “That’s why I reached out. Had to let you know. This one, it wasn’t me.” 

Bucky looked down over the side of the building. “Cops are here,” he said. “We should go somewhere. They’ll search the area. Probably end up here eventually.” 

Frank nodded. “I got a place.” 

“Uh-uh. No way,” Clint responded. “We’re not going anywhere with you. We’ve seen what you’re capable of.” He gestured at the street below. 

Frank snorted. “Like I said: wasn’t me.” 

“But the other ones were?” Clint asked. “The ones we found before this?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So why should we believe you?” Clint asked, looking at Bucky. He looked distracted again. 

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.” 

“Doubtful,” Bucky hissed back. 

Clint begrudgingly considered the fact that Frank might be right. They hadn’t been careful enough. Sam had scoped out the roofs and had missed this guy, up here, looking down on them with a sniper rifle in his hands. That’s a mistake that shouldn’t have happened. Not to the Avengers. Not to him. _Get your head out of your ass, Barton,_ he thought to himself. _Get control of the situation._ “What about my old place,” he turned Bucky. “You still keeping that as a safehouse?” 

Bucky nodded and scratched the back of his head, looking away. 

“Fine, we’ll go there.” 

The three men walked silently. Clint was cautiously wary, but he had to admit he was impressed with Frank so far. The man vanished into the early morning shadows as well as he and Bucky did. Clint’s felt a twinge of guilt about taking Frank to his old building, what with all the tenants, but from what he remembered - and what he’d seen over the past week - The Punisher was a decent person, as far as crazed serial killers go. He only went after the bad guys. 

Most of the people in Clint’s building should be safe. _Most of them._

Bucky unlocked the door and ushered them in. Frank let out a low whistle, eyeing one of the guns hanging on the wall. “That’s Deloris,” Bucky said proudly. 

Clint looked around, the realization of what he was seeing hitting him. Bucky hadn’t been keeping this as a safehouse. He’d clearly been living here. There were dirty clothes piled on the couch, and guns hanging on the walls and… _was that a knife sticking out of his coffee table?_ “Aww, coffee table, no…” Clint muttered under his breath. 

“She’s a beauty,” Frank said, still talking about Deloris. 

Clint hated guns. No poetry. No style. 

“She’s a variation of the Dragunov, only more adaptable. Six modulations. Heatproof casing. 5.56 to 6.8 in 45 seconds. Less if you’re me.” Clint tuned them out. _Blah, blah, blah, guns. ‘My gun is bigger than your gun!’ Just pull out your dicks and swing them around already, Jesus._ Clint leaned his bow and quiver against the wall and perched on a windowsill, looking down on the street. His hand rested gently on one of his arrows, out of habit, but he didn’t expect any trouble. Not here. It felt good to be home. For a moment, he felt guilty about thinking of this apartment as home. Montana and Laura and the kids, that was home. That should be home. They should be home. Wherever they were, that was home. This was not his home. He repeated it to himself again. _This is not home._ He was so thankful to have them back, but they couldn’t understand how it had been. He’d told Laura, and of course she held him and cried. She loved Nat. But she didn’t understand. She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t been there for any of it and he’d… He couldn’t think about what he’d done. Not here. Not now. He needed to focus. He directed his attention back to Frank and Bucky, who were still taking about Dorothy or whatever the fuck old lady name that god damned gun had. 

“Oh,” Bucky paused, smiling. “And a fingerprint trigger. She’ll blow for anybody who isn’t me.” 

Frank’s eyes went wide. “Breakin’ my heart,” he muttered. He turned away from the gun and looked at Bucky. “I don’t wanna get all hero worship-y, but you’re the reason I joined up in the first place.” 

“Army?” Bucky asked. 

“Marines,” Frank answered. 

“Service treat you about as well as it treated me, then?” 

Frank swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he answered after a pause, considering. “I guess you can say it did.” 

“Why are you here, Frank?” Clint asked from across the room. Not that he was annoyed by the military guns lovefest, but… well, yeah. It was exactly that, actually. 

“There’s uh… there’s some stuff goin’ down. Thought I could handle it. Starting to realize maybe I can’t. Figured you two would be best for backup.” 

“Us specifically?” Clint asked, still perched on his window, tucking one leg up underneath him. His apartment didn’t even smell like him anymore. “Not the Avengers in general, but us?” 

Frank nodded. 

“That’s why you waited until Sam was gone,” Bucky offered. 

Frank nodded again. “A few years back…” he paused. “Or, last year depending on how you fella’s count time. Anyway, a bit ago, a friend took out a bunch of high-ups in the New York underground scene. Got ‘em all put in jail. He was real proud of himself, too. One of those “forgiveness and second chances” types. Never once stopped to think about what a shit job he was doin’. Left a vacuum behind. All these grunts with nobody bossing them around, or worse taking orders from the inside… And now it looks like they’re joining forces. Somebody’s getting them all together. Russians, Yakuza, Triad… even the Dogs of War, but that one’s on me.” 

“Hydra, too,” Bucky added. 

Frank raised an eyebrow. 

“That last one, today. Almost half those guys were ex-Hydra. Who’s in charge?” 

“Not sure who he is,” Frank said. “Somebody new. Always wears a mask. Blue, with white on the forehead. I haven’t gotten a clear look at him, or a clean shot. But he was the one today. The one who took them all out.” 

Clint stood. “He took out his own people?” 

Frank nodded. “No warning. Just walked in and started shooting. He’s good, too. He didn’t miss once. Not by an inch; not even after they started running. Just walked up and fired twelve shots.” 

“You sure it was a “he?” Bucky asked. 

Frank nodded. “Pretty sure. Moved like it. Square jaw. Why?” 

Bucky shook his head. Clint wondered momentarily if it was relief or disappointment that he saw flash behind the man’s eyes. 

“What’s he planning?” Bucky asked. 

“Don’t know yet,” Frank answered. “They’re all over the map. Can’t find any pattern. Drugs. Weapons. Human trafficking. I caught them on the docks two weeks ago with a box car of what had to be fifteen-year-old boys. Kids were mostly naked, more than half starved. That’s when I started going after them.” 

“Jesus,” Clint whispered under his breath. 

“So what’s the plan,” Bucky asked. 

“I only ever got one plan” Frank jerked his head at Deloris. 

Bucky nodded his agreement. The two men turned and looked at Clint. 

_Fuck,_ Clint thought. But they were right. It was the only option. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is all MCU compliant, except apparently I'm writing comic book Clint Barton's attitude? Whatever. I don't care. Comic book Clint Barton is the best. 
> 
> This has been the hardest chapter to write so far, and it's possibly my least favorite, so I hope you liked it. It felt weird to slip away from the Matt/Bucky story, but I promise it's important and I didn't know how else to handle it. We're back to our boys in the next chapter, I promise.
> 
> Please leave any thoughts and comments that you have. Kudos and praise give me life, but feedback makes me a better writer, so I'll take it all! 
> 
> As always, love and thanks to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat


	6. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, but I'm posting it as a set with Chapter 7.
> 
> ALSO!! I'm trying to keep this as true to MCU canon as possible, but there are absolutely no Far From Home spoilers here. This is taking place in the fall immediately after the Snapture was undone. Far From Home takes place the following Summer. If for some reason this lasts that long, I will absolutely give a heads-up before any spoilers take place. 
> 
> But, like, that mid credit scene, amiright?!?!?!
> 
> Thanks as always to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat, the best online friends a girl could ask for!

Bucky had been following Matt Murdock on and off for five weeks now, and he seemed to be a perfectly average blind lawyer. _Well, maybe slightly above average,_ Bucky thought. 

In those five weeks, he’d seen Matt Murdock win seventeen cases and lose two. He hadn’t risked actually going into the courtroom, for fear of being caught, but he had planted a few listening devices. There was one in Matt’s briefcase, which went with him to all of his cases, and another in his gym bag. The bugs he planted in Matt’s apartment kept getting broken; just a string of bad luck. He had lost three before he gave up. His best guess was that the apartment had a rat problem. It was a run-down apartment in a not great area of the city, so that wouldn’t really surprise him. Anyway, it wasn’t that big of a deal. There was a large stained glass window in Matt’s apartment, and Bucky could listen in from an office in the adjacent building. He could see in ok, too, but there wasn’t usually that much to see. Matt wasn’t home often, and when he was he liked to sit in the dark and read. More likely, though, Bucky could find him at his office or at his gym. 

Matt worked out regularly - boxing - which Bucky told himself wasn’t that impressive for a blind man. It wasn’t like Matt was fighting an actual person - just hitting the punching bag, which didn’t move much. It explained some of why Matt moved like he did on the night they met. Bucky had done some research and learned that Matt’s dad had been a boxer, too. So probably his old man taught him some moves. Matt was strong but, again, Bucky quickly reminded himself, that wasn’t all that unusual. A few times, while reporting back on his surveillance, Sam had chastised Bucky for his preconceived notions of blind people. “Abelist,” Sam had called them. Just because he was blind didn’t mean he shouldn’t be able to throw a punch. Bucky tried to remind himself of that regularly, every time he saw Matt move gracefully around the punching bag, Bucky reminded himself that the eyes were in no way connected to the shoulders, and just because one was weak didn’t mean the others couldn’t be unbelievably strong. Bucky also regularly reminded himself that he was only watching Matt as a part of the Sam-sanctioned surveillance mission. He didn’t know how much detail Sam would want in his reports, so it was for the sake of being thorough that he found himself getting lost in the ripple of those shoulders under a white t-shirt as Matt struck the bag over and over and over again until he was shiny with sweat.

He couldn’t let himself be distracted by it, though. It was a secondary mission and not a priority. Two weeks ago he had been distracted, thinking about Matt’s shoulders, and it had lead to Frank Castle getting the jump on them. Not that it had ended badly. Things were going well with Frank. He liked the guy’s style. They were doing good work together.

Steve almost never sweat. Not working out, anyway. And Bucky hadn’t spent much time just watching Steve work out, if he was being honest. He much preferred to be a part of any exercise session he was present for. Sparring with Steve Rogers was… _had been,_ he reminded himself… the highlight of his life. 

Matt Murdock moved like poetry. 

Bucky had been an amateur boxer in his youth. Back in ‘36, he and Steve had snuck in to see John Henry Lewis fight Jock McAvoy for the Light-Heavyweight title. Most of the crowd had been cheering for McAvoy, but not Bucky. Lewis had moved like a man possessed, eyes glazed over, landing blow after blow, solidly, with no sign of slowing down. By the end, McAvoy looked like he was just scrambling to get out of the larger man’s way. Matt punched like Lewis, with single minded determination, all of his body focused on the single task. Bucky would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what it might be like experiencing that single-minded-focus up close and personal… for observational purposes, of course.

One of Matt’s two courtroom losses had been today, and it was a heartbreaking one. Matt and his law partner, Foggy, had been building the case piece by piece, and Bucky really thought they were going to win. A property developer had swindled some little old ladies and single mothers out of their rent controlled apartments and converted them into luxury condos. More people meant there were suddenly not enough nice apartments to go around, and those who had survived Thanos’s snap hadn’t worried about upkeep on the buildings left uninhabited. There was a lot of crumbling infrastructure. Unfortunately, while the guy was an ass, what he’d done wasn’t technically illegal. 

After the trial, Matt had comforted his clients. As Bucky watched from under a baseball cap, he had been overwhelmed with how gentle this Matt was. Soft hand, soft face, soft voice. So different from punching-bag-Matt. He would help them find places to stay. There were resources. He would help coordinate. Yes, he knew that they couldn’t pay. It was ok. Don’t cry. We’ll figure it out. In the end, Nelson and Murdock paid to put them all up in an extended stay hotel for the next few weeks. 

Bucky had broken in and checked out the firm’s books in his first week of surveillance. He knew they didn’t have money for that. He put a reminder in his phone to talk to Pepper. The Stark foundation had money to spare. Nelson and Murdock seemed like they could benefit from a sizable donation. 

And, ok, maybe Bucky felt a little guilty that he beaten this guy up. But also the law firm was doing great work, usually without getting paid, and they were helping New York. 

In the few days after their initial meeting, Bucky decided that he must have been much drunker than he originally thought. It was the only thing that made sense. Matt had been bruised all over the first day, and Bucky was ashamed to look at him. _I did that,_ he thought, _to a blind man. I’m no better than what I was._ But by the next day Matt was already looking better, and by day 5 he was basically all healed. _So it couldn’t have been as bad as it looked,_ Bucky told himself. _Probably the man just bruised easily._

After getting his clients into taxis, Matt had walked to his boxing gym and beat the ever loving shit out of a punching bag. He didn’t even pause to change; just walked in, loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top button on his dress shirt, and punched until his knuckles bled. After his blood was already splattered across the punching bag, Matt stopped, removing his tie and shirt, and bandaging his knuckles. Then, in a t-shirt and dark slacks, red already starting to seep through the white tape on his knuckles, Matt was at it again, punching harder this time, sweating and grunting and cursing. Bucky could feel the anger and pain pouring off of him, as Matt lost himself in the violence. His hair was a mess, red glasses were off, eyes were unfocused and glazed over. _Here’s the man from the bar,_ Bucky thought in awe, _showing his face again for the first time._

Matt kept punching until tears were in his eyes and his bandaged knuckles were bright red again. He snarled and Bucky watched with shock as he knocked the bag clean off its chain. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt,” Bucky whispered under his breath. 

Matt froze. 

_No fucking way _, Bucky thought. He was on the roof of the building across the street. It has to be a coincidence. Bucky flattened against the roof anyway.__

__Matt tilted his head, the way he had done in the alley. Bucky lay totally still, afraid to breathe. This, right here, is what Bucky had been looking for, and this is exactly what he hadn’t seen. He had almost convinced himself that he had imagined it. Matt was listening, smelling the air. Bucky couldn’t believe it. _What is this guy’s deal? And why now? After five weeks of nothing, here he was again. What was different?__ _

__A thought flashed in Bucky’s mind and he quickly brushed it away. It was nonsense. And yet…_ _

__In the gym, Matt began packing up his things. Bucky’s phone buzzed, and he thought he saw Matt pause again, just briefly. Bucky stared down at his phone, taking a moment for the words to sink in:_ _

__Shuri: Arm is done. I am by the wizard. Hurry_ _

__Bucky glanced down at the empty sleeve hanging from his left shoulder. It hadn’t been broken; Shuri just wanted to do some upgrades._ _

__He sighed. No point in following Matt tonight; the man was already spooked. With one last glance through the gym’s window, Bucky climbed down the building’s fire escape and headed to the West Village._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random things I researched for this chapter:
> 
> John Henry Lewis (May 1, 1914 – April 18, 1974) was a hall of fame American boxer and held the World Light Heavyweight Boxing Title from 1935 to 1938. The Ring boxing magazine named Lewis the 16th greatest light heavyweight of all-time.
> 
> He retired at 26 because he was going blind, and he would have been partially visually impaired when he fought McAvoy in New York on March 13, 1936.


	7. Matt

James Buchanan Barnes, the celebrated war hero, best friend of Captain America, AKA the Winter Soldier had been following him for five weeks now. 

To be honest, Matt still wasn’t totally convinced it was the Winter Soldier, although Foggy and Danny both were. Whoever it was had planted listening devices on Matt - three of them: one in his briefcase, one in his gym bag, and one in his apartment. Matt heard them right away, of course. He left the gym bag and suitcase ones, but destroyed the one in his apartment. He didn’t have time for that. He’d sprayed it with tile cleaner - the kind that you use to destroy mildew. It was a terrible plan; made his apartment smell like bleach and toxins so bad that he couldn’t be in there for a week. When the second one showed up, in a potted plant, he poured boiling water on the plant and then threw it away. Who got him a plant, anyway? The third he sucked up with a vacuum cleaner. Fortunately, after that, James Barnes or whoever it was gave up. It was hard to think of ways to make breaking listening devices look like an accident. Jessica wanted to do her own surveillance right back, but Matt had stopped that before she could even say it out loud. There was no point. He knew Barnes, which was what he’d decided to call him even if he wasn’t sure it really was him, was following him. He could tell when Barnes was close. But he shouldn’t know; he shouldn’t be able to tell. If he wanted Barnes to think that he was just a normal guy, then he needed to act like he didn’t know the man was there. Which meant no extra surveillance. No acting weird. Work, the gym, a few nights out with friends, that’s it.

And, assuming it was James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, or whatever the man wanted to be called these days, Matt definitely wanted him to think he was just a normal guy. Matt didn’t need the Avengers on to him. As nice as it might be to have some support every now and then, Matt couldn’t imagine a scenario where they just let him do his thing. Most of them had signed the Sokovia Accords. Matt had to assume they were pretty anti-vigilante. Besides, they had their place and he had his. He didn’t need their help, and he certainly didn’t want them asking for help from him. Not that they would ever need it. Plus, he knew that was a best-case-scenario. More likely they’d just have him arrested. Matt could play the game. He needed to play the game. Let Barnes think that he was following Matt discreetly. Matt knew when he was being listened to. He knew when Barnes was across the street, watching him through his window. He settled in early those nights. There was enough work to do on his cases, and honestly needing to be home focusing on them was doing great things for his court results. At least, if you excluded today.

It was doing terrible things for Daredevil, though. Things were going down in his city, and he couldn’t get out to stop it. None of what he was hearing made sense. Someone was banding together the Russians and Triad and Yakuza. The reports he was getting. The things they were doing… It was terrible. Like someone was trying to push all his buttons, and with this guy following him so close he couldn’t go out and do anything about it. And then someone else… and maybe two someone elses based on the report he had heard this morning… were hunting them. Matt was always glad to have the Yakuza off the street, but not this way. The police reports he had gotten from Mahoney were sickening. He couldn’t ignore it anymore. He needed to get out and stop it.

_Tonight,_ Matt thought. He hadn’t sensed the arm around in three days. Maybe Barnes had given up. And even if he hadn’t, it was time to get out there and put an end to it. If Barnes caught up with him… well, he’d beat him once before. He’d just have to do it again.

Matt shuddered to think what it might be like to fight Barnes if the man wasn’t completely and utterly wasted.

Foggy had watched some footage of the Winter Soldier fighting and described it to him. There had been two public fights, one in Washington DC and the other in Romania. Both took place on major highways. Both were captured by multiple bystanders on their phones. There was plenty of footage on YouTube. Matt hadn’t asked Foggy for the description; in fact, he found it pretty useless. Foggy had never been in a fight in his life, so what he thought was ‘important feedback’ was pretty laughable. It was less about technique and more “HOLY SHIT MATT THIS GUY IS REALLY SCARY AND HE HAS A BIG GUN AND HOW DID YOU NOT DIE?!?!” Matt made the mistake of showing the footage to Jessica, thinking he might get something useful to work with, but her response was even less helpful. (“He’s wearing leather pants, Matt. And look at his hair! The way he walks down that car… Yeah. I’d fuck that.”)

That had been this morning, and it hadn’t even been the lowpoint of his day. Foggy and he had lost a case this afternoon. It had been expected, but he was still taking it hard. Dirtbag slumlords in Hell’s Kitchen were at it again, only this time they had the law on their side. There just weren’t enough places for people to live, and the owners of the building were within their rights to take advantage of the economic forces of supply and demand by raising the rents to astronomical levels. It didn’t matter that these people had nowhere else to go. Matt and Foggy knew they weren’t going to be able to stop the evictions, but they had hoped to at least get their clients something. A little bit longer to find somewhere to stay. A bit of money in a buyout. Something. 

People didn’t deserve to be kicked out of their homes. People had enough to deal with already. Matt had really thought that they had convinced the jury on the extension and now… well now those were more legal fees that were never going to get paid, and on top of that he had promised to help find places for 15 families to live. There were no apartments available in New York, so they put them all up in hotels. He had no idea what he was going to do. The firm didn’t have the money to pay for that. 

Matt was getting legitimately worried that he was going to be the one evicted next. He managed to keep his bills paid, but just barely. None of the clients they were bringing in had any money. His apartment was shitty, but shitty was better than nothing and that was what so many others had. His landlord would raise his rent; somebody else would be willing to deal with that billboard, and then he would be without a place to stay.

He briefly wondered what Barnes would think, if he was suddenly turned onto the street. Maybe the man would take him in. It would certainly make Matt easier to spy on. 

Matt wasn’t quite sure why Barnes was spying on him anyway. They met in a bar and they fought, and Matt got away. Was Barnes holding a grudge? And if so, over what? Matt knew he had knocked Barnes momentarily unconscious, but outside of that he didn’t think he’d gotten a single solid blow in. And Barnes had destroyed him. He could barely move for the next few days. It had taken meditating with Danny to get himself back on his feet.

But that was weeks ago, and now Matt was physically fine, albeit emotionally destroyed, so he had done the only thing he could think to do. He put all of his clients into taxis and paid using his own personal, nearly maxed out credit card, and then he had walked to the gym and taken out all of his aggression on a punching bag. He knew his knuckles were bleeding and he didn’t care, except when he realized he probably couldn’t afford to buy a new shirt so he’d better not get blood on this one. It was too much. It was all too fucking much. He hadn’t been out as Daredevil for too long, and things were falling apart, and he could almost bear it since he knew he was helping elsewhere, but know they had completely and utterly lost this case and it was going to put Nelson and Murdock out of business and this was just too much. 

He kept punching until his knuckles were numb and he could feel tears pricking at his eyes. It was too much. Nobody deserved this. Too. Fucking. MUCH! Matt let everything he was feeling pour out of his fists, white hot with rage, until he heard a loud crash and felt a rush of wind and he realized, embarrassed, that he had broken the chain holding up the bag.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt.” He heard the words clear as day. They were coming from the roof across the street.

Matt froze.

That’s where Barnes had been, in the past, when he had been following Matt. But he couldn’t be. Matt was always alert for the arm. He’d gotten so good, he could track it from the other side of Manhattan.

He reached out with his senses. There, on the rooftop. It was him. The same heartbeat, slow and strong. The same breath. The same scent. But no arm. _What the ever loving fuck?_ Matt thought to himself. _He can take the arm off? How long… oh God. How long has he been following me? How many times..._

_Does he know about Daredevil?_

Matt didn’t know what to do next, but he knew he had to get out of there. He started to pack up his things. From across the street, he heard Bucky’s phone buzz.

_Fuck,_ Matt thought. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

_This is it. This is how it’s all going to come crashing down. Everything I’ve worked for. Everything Foggy’s worked for. All of it._

Matt walked out of the gym and into the hallway, where there were no windows. He listened as Barnes climbed down the building’s fire escape and walked away. There was no more room to mess around. He needed to figure out what this guy knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never sure what to write as notes! 
> 
> I really liked these two chapters! They might be some of my favorite things that I've ever written. Please let me know what you think! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> Also, just fair warning, this is going to get explicit eventually. You've got a few chapters left, if that's not your bag, but I wanted to give a heads up just in case that wasn't clear.


	8. Bucky/Matt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite possibly the longest week ever. I cannot believe it is only Wednesday! Maybe you feel the same? If so, here is some bonus mid-week content for you, because it's done!

Bucky:

“No, of course. I understand. Thank you, Pepper. No. No, really. Yes. I really appreciate it.” Bucky ended the call and looked up at the Sanctum. He didn’t like it here. The building was old; it was clearly very old, but Bucky didn’t remember ever seeing it before meeting Strange. It must have been there when he was a kid. He should have noticed it. It looked like a museum and a church and a Victorian mansion all rolled into one. And going inside… He walked up the stairs to the front door. 

Shuri opened the door with a smile and a hug. “Ahh, white boy! So good to see you. How is New York treating you?” She took him by his shoulders and her expression became serious. Sometimes Bucky forgot she was just a child. “You look tired. Are you ready to come home? Your goats miss you.”

“New York is home, Princess,” Bucky reminded her with a smile. But she was right. He felt tired and he knew the smile showed it.

“Come on. We can get to my lab upstairs.”

Bucky braced himself as he walked up the steps. The place was ridiculous. The walls moved. For someone who prided himself on knowing what was going on around him at all times, that was completely unacceptable. There were portals to other places. And times? And maybe dimensions? Bucky paused for a second, suddenly wondering if the building held a door that would take him to Steve right before Steve found Peggy. He really wanted to shake some sense into that Steve. But Bucky pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t like time-travel, and he didn’t know how Strange’s portals worked. What he did know was that they all made noise. Like, a lot of noise. There were random sounds and voices everywhere. And Strange seemed to enjoy popping out of nowhere, or popping you into somewhere else, for apparently no other reason than to prove that he could. And also, this place smelled weird.

Shuri lead him through a door, and the hair on Bucky’s arm stood on end. Magic.

Bucky looked around. “Shuri…?” he called after her, tentatively. She was already walking down a ramp into the cavernous room that sprawled out before them. The floor was black stone. The walls were rock lined with interactive holographic screens. “Shuri?!” Loud this time. Forceful. She turned to look back at him.

“What?”

“Where are we?”

“In my lab, of course,” she replied coolly and began walking again. “Come on now. I haven’t got all day. You think I have nothing better to do than fix broken old soldiers?” 

“Your lab where, Shuri?”

Shuri stopped walking, sighed deeply, then turned and walked back to Bucky. She reached out one hand and pushed his hair back behind his ear, then stroked his cheek gently. “I know you do not like it, James, which is why I did not say anything. Yes, we are in Wakanda. It is easier this way. My lab is too big…”

Bucky began to protest but Shuri cut him off with a stern look.

“My lab is too big to be traveling all over with it, or to rebuild it in New York. This is a helpful solution.”

“You still should have warned me,” Bucky muttered. 

“It would not have made any difference and what is done is done. Besides, you would have whined.”

“I’m a 102-year-old-super-soldier assassin. I don’t whine,” Bucky whined.

“Sis, please. Now come. Let us get you whole again.”

The two walked to a workspace where Bucky’s arm was lying in an open case on a table. As always, Bucky felt mixed emotions staring down at it. As the Asset, when he had been himself long enough to have feelings about anything, he had found the arm to be a necessary nuisance. It gave him what he needed, it made him a weapon, but it was heavy and clunky and painful. After he had broken his programming, before Steve found him, Bucky had actively hated his arm. It was a constant reminder of what he was and what he had lost. It represented all the reasons he would never be himself again. It was a constant reminder of the fact that he could literally never be whole. 

The vibranium arm was much better than the first. It was lighter; it didn’t constantly hurt him. It had been made as a gift, with love and kindness and respect. But it was still a reminder of who he was now, and more importantly of whom he would never get to be again. “It looks the same,” Bucky said, and he hated how tight his voice sounded. He picked up the arm and clicked it into place at his shoulder, flexing his vibranium fingers as the feeling returned to them. “Feels the same, too. What did you do to it?” 

“I’ve added some telescoping features to the elbow and fingers…”

“Telescoping? You’re saying my arm can get longer?” Bucky cut her off.

“Yes,” Shuri agreed. “Your arm or individual fingers.”

“How much longer?”

“About a foot total. Also, I added some hypermobility in the elbow joints, so it can bend backwards.”

“Why would I need that, Shuri?” Bucky was aghast. “I’m not joining Cirque du Soleil.” 

“Then don’t use it. It’s not hurting anything, is it?” Shuri continued. “Your first finger can also get hot enough to melt most metals, and you have a holographic emitter in your palm. It can interface with any Wakandan or Stark tech, and it’s got a built in Stark AI to help it interface with things it hasn’t seen before. That idea came from S.H.I.E.L.D. Did you know that S.H.I.E.LD. exists again? A man named Mac reached out to me. He mentioned that the previous director had a hand...” Shuri stopped talking, noticing Bucky and the panic spreading across his face.

Bucky felt his heartbeat climbing; his legs trembled slightly. His stomach clenched and for a moment he was afraid he was going to vomit. _S.H.I.E.L.D. tech. In my arm. In my… and attached to me now, already. And S.H.I.E.L.D. was… had been… they’re going to… I’m going to have to… I can’t. Please. Please, Shuri I can’t…_ he begged her with his eyes.

Shuri reached out and grabbed his flesh hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Look at me. James! James, look at me!” 

Bucky blinked at her, unseeing. The world was going white around him.

“James. It was their idea but not their design. I built this. Just me. All on my own. Nobody else.”

Bucky heard the words. He tried to let them sink in. He tried to breathe. 

“James.” Shuri grabbed his metal hand and held it to her chest. “James you know me. We had a deal. Nobody touches this arm except you and me. Not unless you are there and you say it is ok. Ok? Breathe. Breathe James. What did Sam suggest?”

Bucky looked at her. 

“To calm yourself. What did Sam tell you to do?”

“Name blue things,” Bucky managed to gasp out. 

“Good,” Shuri said. “Good. Can you find five blue things in the room for me? Count them.”

Bucky looked at the ground.

“Count them!” Shuri was insistent

“The windows,” Bucky said, pointing at each item as he listed it. “One. The screen. Two. Your painting is three. Your necklace. Four.” Bucky looked down. He had a blue hair tie around his wrist, which he held up and showed to Shuri with a smile. “Five.” 

“You back with me, white boy.”

Bucky smiled weakly. “Yeah. Yes. I’m sorry. I just… S.H.I.E.L.D. They were Hydra. They...”

“It is ok,”’Shuri cut him off. “They’re not anymore, but it’s ok. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have said that without warning you.”

“I shouldn’t be so fragile.”

Shuri smiled at him gently. “We are all fragile in our own way. It is what makes us human. So…” Shuri paused, clearly indicating that the conversation was over, “let me show you how everything works, ok?”

Matt:

Matt followed Bucky’s distinct heartbeat for as far as he could, but he lost it around Washington Square Park. There wasn’t much he could do before dark, so when Danny called to find out if he wanted dinner, he accepted. His fridge was bare except for beer, and there was no money for take-out. He hated accepting Danny’s charity, but it had been a hard day and he wanted more than stale boxed mac and cheese. 

He started a kettle of water, took one of the beers out of the fridge and opened it, and then sat down on the couch, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was anxious, he realized. He had let the situation with maybe-Barnes go on too long, and it was time to end it. Now that he had made the decision, he just wanted to get it over with. 

Matt heard Danny on the street below, and got up and unlocked his apartment door. He smiled as Danny entered the building and he caught the scent of the pork dumplings Danny was carrying. The kid was an entitled brat sometimes, but he always knew where to find the best take-out. 

Danny walked in without knocking. He dropped three plastic bags full of Chinese carry out on the coffee table in front of Matt, then walked back to the stove where the kettle was just starting to whistle.

“Dibs on those dumplings,” Matt said, as he began pulling cartons out of the bags. 

“I got three orders, because you’re a monster,” Danny replied from the kitchen. 

“Whatever,” Matt said, holding a plastic box up to his nose and taking a breath. “A guy eats two orders of pork dumplings, one time, TO WIN A BET, and you never let him live it down. Is this cherry pie?”

Danny nodded. “I made an extra stop.”. 

“You are a good man.”

“I heard you had a bad day.” Danny picked up a box of white loose leaf tea on the counter and inspected it. “Is this new?”

“Yeah,” Matt replied, opening a carton of dumplings. “It smelled good. Let me know what you think.”

Danny pulled an Eeyore mug out of the cabinet and chuckled. “Foggy get you some new mugs?” He asked, scooping the tea into a ball and dropping it into the mug. He poured the water over the top.

“Jessica, actually. She thinks she’s hilarious.”

“She’s mad because you took her last bottle of whiskey.”

“I won that bottle fair and square!” Matt scoffed, chewing. “It’s not my fault she sucks at pool.”

Danny sat down next to Matt on the couch. Matt grabbed the last dumpling out of the carton on the table, popped it into his mouth, then grabbed a second box and leaned back. 

“You want to talk about it?” Danny asked. 

“Nope.”

“Ok.” Danny held out his mug and Matt clinked it with his beer. "Tea's good," Danny said with a gentle smile after taking a sip.

The two men sat in silence, eating. Matt drained his beer and set the bottle down on the table. 

“You want me to grab you another?” Danny asked. 

Matt shook his head no. 

“You going out tonight?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“What about that guy? Maybe the Winter Soldier?”

Matt shrugged. “I haven’t heard him around for a while,” he lied. “I think he got sick of me. It’s your night, right?”

“Me and Colleen,” Danny agreed, fishing some noodles out of a carton with his chopsticks. 

“How’s this sound?” Matt asked with a smile. His lawyer voice was in full force. “You got dinner, so I’ll cover both of you tonight. Do whatever you two crazy kids do for fun. Show her a good time. Practice making the next generation of iron fists, or play with the big swords, or meditate or something like that. Relax. Have some Danny Colleen time. You deserve it.”

Danny squinted at Matt. The man was clearly hiding something. There was no other reason for him to be laying on the Murdock charm so thickly. On the other hand, whatever Matt Murdock was planning, he was going to do it whether Danny approved or not. And a night in with Colleen did sound nice. 

“I already know you’re going to say yes,” Matt said, grabbing the pie and settling back down to eat. “So you may as well just say it and be done.”

“You’re kind of a jerk. You know that, right?” Danny asked, as he watched Matt pluck a cherry off the top of the pie with chopsticks. 

“Jessica did inform me of that when I took the booze that was rightfully mine.” Matt flashed his brightest smile. 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Ok, man. You’ve got a deal. Be safe, though, ok?”

Matt nodded once, then stood and carried his pie to the kitchen. He grabbed a fork from a drawer and began to eat the pie at the counter. “I love the new suit, by the way.”

“It’s good?” Danny asked. 

“It’s perfect. Really. I can’t say thank you enough.”

“Well nobody wants you ending up dead. Or… at least I don’t. You did take Jessica’s last bottle of whiskey, so I can’t really vouch for her.” Danny began packing the leftovers into Matt’s fridge. “I’m going to take the Eggplant home for Colleen, but I’ll leave the rest of it in case Foggy wants any, ok?”

Matt didn’t call Danny out on his lie.

“You sure you’re good for tonight?” Danny asked.

“Yeah, man. Have fun.”

“Ok, thanks buddy,” Danny said as he walked towards the door. “But reach out to me if you need anything?”

“Of course,” Matt said walking him out.

Matt locked the door again behind Danny, then walked to the window. The sun was down. Even through the closed window, he could feel that the air outside had gotten cold. It had been a warm day for mid-October, but that wouldn’t last. Matt could feel the barometric pressure dropping, and he suspected it would be the last warm day until late Spring. In the apartment across the hall, Matt heard his neighbor turning on the nightly news. 8:00 pm.

Matt walked across his living room and opened the coat closet. He opened the chest sitting on the floor of the closet and pulled out the top insert, revealing his suit underneath. He let his fingers run across it gently, feeling the fabric. He hadn’t lied. Rand Corp. had done a great job. He could tell it was even stronger than the suit Melvin had made him, and it was more flexible too. Danny had told him it was all black, with just the initials, DD, in red on the chest. 

Matt stripped down to his boxer briefs and then stepped into the suit. There was a lining that could come out and get washed, which Matt was thankful for, and Danny had told him a warmer version was on the way for winter. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly, but it was tolerable. Melvin’s suit had been great, but it had been so rough.

Placing the cowl over his head, Matt walked up the stairs in his apartment and slipped out through the skylight. 

The cold fall air bit at Matt’s jaw as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. He wanted to get to Bleecker Street, where he had last heard Barnes. The buildings were low there, like in Hell’s Kitchen, and he found himself a perch on a five-story brownstone. It had a flat roof in the center, with dome-like structures on both ends, and an unusual skylight in the front. It wasn’t a church, but it felt church-like, and Matt settled down on one of its many spires. _This is just about where I lost him,_ Matt thought, reaching out with his senses. _Nothing. Focus. Go deeper. Forget about the arm. Listen for his breath. Listen for his heartbeat._

Matt closed his eyes, focusing his energy, and searching.

Bucky:

“Strange told me that he intends to leave this portal open, to help us stay in contact. That means you do not need to be alone. You can always come and talk to me. Please know that you are always welcome in Wakanda.”

Bucky smiled at Shuri. “Of course.”

“I mean it, James. You are my friend. I miss you.”

“Thank you. Really. And I will. I will absolutely come and visit.”

“Tell me,” Shuri began walking towards the door back into the Sanctum. “What ever happened with that man from the bar? Your lawyer friend?”

“He’s not my friend,” Bucky quickly corrected her, as the two walked through the portal. “And I’m not sure. I mean, I was convinced I had imagined the whole thing, and then this afternoon… I don’t know anymore. It doesn’t make sense. He… the way he acted...” Bucky shook his head. They were back to the front door of the Sanctum. “I’ll let you know the moment I know anything, ok?”

Shuri smiled.

Thank you again,” Bucky said, flexing his vibranium fingers.

Shuri reached out and gave Bucky a big hug. “Talk to Pete. He might be able to help.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, and then turned and walked out of the Sanctum. 

It was cold. It had gotten cold while he was inside. Bucky checked his watch. Almost 9:30. Time to meet up with Frank. He turned up his collar and began to walk towards their meeting point.

Matt:

Matt was sitting, still, on the rooftop, all of his senses focused on the task at hand. He scanned the city, looking for a heartbeat, a breath, a noise. Anything that might tell him where the man was. He blocked out the voices and the traffic and the sound of the wind sweeping through New York City. He blocked out babies fighting bedtime and lovers fighting each other and cries for help that would normally have him running across town in an instant. He blocked out the noises of something untoward at the docks, Turk breaking his probation again, an affair three blocks over. Matt focused. He scanned. He searched.

“My friend.” 

It was so loud it knocked Matt off his feet. He stumbled and fell to the ground, rolling once on the sloped roof before resting against a turret. There had been nothing, and then suddenly it was there. He was there. The breath, the heartbeat, the arm. The goddamned arm. His voice. It was right there. He was right there. In the building beneath Matt. What. The. Fuck?

“And I’m not sure. I mean, I was convinced I had imagined the whole thing, and then this afternoon… I don’t know anymore. It doesn’t make sense. He… the way he acted… I’ll let you know the moment I know anything, ok?”

There was a pause.

“Thank you again.” Matt heard the metal arm shift, directly beneath his feet.

“Talk to Pete.” It was a woman’s voice. Young. Foreign. “He might be able to help.” _Who is Pete?_

“Thanks,” Barnes said, and Matt looked down and watched him walk out of the building. The building that he absolutely, positively, without a doubt had not been in three minutes before. _What the fuck is going on?_

Barnes turned up the collar on his leather jacket, and began to walk away. Matt tracked the arm, across town to a Starbucks on 8th Avenue. “Two blocks from my apartment,” Matt muttered to himself. “Fine. Fine. Let’s do this.”

Bucky:

Bucky was the first to arrive. He checked his watch again. 9:55. Five minutes early. Bucky walked up to the counter and ordered, then grabbed a table in the back. 

A few minutes later, Frank walked in. He nodded at Bucky, then walked to the counter and placed his own order. The barista handed him a cup of coffee and Frank smiled at her. It was loud in the shop, so Bucky couldn’t hear them, but by her face it was clear Frank had called her ma’am. Bucky watched the barista blush and he shook his head. Frank wasn’t his type, but Bucky couldn’t help but notice the effect the man seemed to have on the women around him. It was impressive. 

“Venti Salted Caramel Mocha with Extra Whip for Buddy,” a second Barista called.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and then locked them with Frank.

“You?” Frank mouthed at him.

Bucky nodded once.

Frank narrowed his eyes at Bucky, then grabbed the drink off the counter and walked it over. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” he said, setting the drink down on the table and sitting across from Bucky. “You’re a grown man.”

“I lived through war rationing,” Bucky replied, taking a sip of his drink and smiling. “I deserve sugar whenever I want it.”

“Yeah you do, baby,” Clint said with a wink and a smile, sitting down between the two men.

“Hmm… thanks but no thanks?” Bucky replied. Clint clutched at his chest in mock dismay. “Nothing for you?” Bucky asked Clint, who was drinkless.

“Apparently this Starbucks doesn’t serve beer,” Clint replied, shrugging. “Their lost revenue, I guess.”

The three men sat in silence for several minutes. Clint checked his watch, then nodded to the other three. They rose in unison, and headed out the back door. 

Matt:

Barnes was meeting with two other men in the Starbucks. Matt reached out, studying them from a rooftop across the street. Matt recognized the first man almost immediately… _Oh shit,_ he thought. _Frank Castle. The Punisher. Technically dead but, well…_ Matt knew better. He didn’t recognize the second man, but Matt could tell he was strong and flexible. Almost certainly another vigilante type. The three stood and walked out the back door of the Starbucks and, from the rooftops, Matt followed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my lovely beta readers/editing team/constant sources of inspiration: Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat. It's too hot for me to come up with any real notes here, but please still leave your comments and kudos because I LOVE them. This is past 100 kudos now, and I honestly can't believe it!! Thank you all so much for reading!!!


	9. Frank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!

Frank led the other two men to a black pickup truck, unlocked the tailgate, and pulled out three large duffel bags. The first, an expensive looking black bag with purple trim, he passed to Clint. The second, basically an oversized backpack, he tossed to Bucky. Finally, he pulled out his own bag and began to suit up.

Frank thought, as he always did in this moment, looking down at the skull on his chest, about how much he hated the Punisher. He hated that was who he had become. He hated that this was who he had to be. But someone needed to do it. Right now, somebody out there was putting more drugs onto the New York streets, and rounding up kids to force into prostitution, and shooting their own men. And Frank knew first hand that the authorities weren’t going to stop it. They couldn’t. No cops or fancy lawyers were going to solve this problem. Nobody was willing to take the steps that were really necessary. Nobody but him. He hated it, but he had a job to do.

And fuck it he was good at what he did.

He strapped the last of six guns to his leg, and pulled a long dark coat on over his vest. Frank looked up, and what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

Clint was in a black tactical suit, quiver slung over his back, a purple brace on his left arm. His left hand was gloved. His right, bare, with a second brace, also purple, around his wrist and over his first two fingers. 

Bucky was wearing a deep blue structured jacket in a military style. The left sleeve was gone, showing his black, metallic arm. His hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Deloris was strapped to his back.

Clint noticed Frank’s expression as the man gave them a once over. “What did you expect,” he asked with a wink, “our gym clothes? You asked for the Avengers, and that’s who you got. So you’d better keep this by the books, Frank; it’s our asses on the line.”

Bucky looked at Clint and smiled. “Good inspirational speech.”

“Thanks! I practiced it in the mirror.”

Frank rolled his eyes and nodded curtly, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand. “Let’s do this, then.” _Focus,_ he thought to himself as he headed down the dark alley, the two men behind him. _Focus on the job. For the love of everything, do not act like a fanboy just because you are working with two of the god damned Avengers. Just. Be. Cool._ Frank held up his hand as they approached a narrow opening between two buildings. The three men flattened against the wall of the first building. Then, guns in hand, Frank stepped into the opening. 

Nothing. 

The passage between the two buildings was empty. Again, Frank signaled the other two to follow. They walked silently until they reached a small concrete courtyard surrounded by four, old, crumbling buildings. Grass and weeds grew up through the cracks. Frank paused, wrinkling his nose. The air smelled of old beer and garbage and weed. He gestured, confirming the directions that they had already discussed: Bucky to the left, Clint to the back, and he would go in through the front. The three men separated and entered the darkened building. 

Frank walked through the old abandoned warehouse, sweeping the area around him as best he could in the dark. Nothing moved. There was no sound. Moonlight flooded in through several broken windows, illuminating the ground in patchy blocks. The building was empty. 

Bucky and Frank met in the middle of the warehouse floor. Bucky’s eyes questioned Frank, who shook his head. They looked up at Clint, one floor above them, on a metal walkway. He shrugged, then walked briskly but silently down a flight of metal stairs to join them. 

_It doesn’t make sense,_ Frank thought to himself. The intelligence had been too good. It was clearly a trap. Somebody wanted them there. But if not to meet them, then why?

Frank heard a loud 'Thump' behind him, and the three men turned in unison, staring at the black figure rising to stand before them. Bucky raised his gun and Clint reached for an arrow.

“Wait!” Frank said quickly. He didn’t think it was possible for him to sound any more annoyed. “Damn it, Red, what are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here, Frank?”

“You’re gonna get hurt, Red. You gotta get out. Did you…” _Of course,_ Frank realized. _That must be what happened._ “Were there people here, Red?” His voice was getting loud. Angry. “Did you warn them? Get them out? It’s not your place, Red. You gotta mind your place or you’re going to get yourself hurt or worse.” Frank raised his own gun. It was an empty threat. He wasn’t going to shoot the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. He knew who he was; knew this was the same man who had defended him when nobody else would. But dammit if Daredevil wasn’t obnoxious. 

“Put the gun down,” Daredevil replied. “I’m not going to hurt you unless you make me.”

Bucky snorted. Frank would have sworn he saw the Devil shoot him a look, if he hadn’t known that wasn’t a thing the man did.

“I don’t know what you’re going on about, but there’s nobody here but us, Frank,” Daredevil continued. “There was nobody here except the three of you when I got here.”

“You know that for a fact?” Clint asked.

“He does,” Frank answered. “I trust him on that much. He says the building is empty, the building is empty.”

“What are you up to, Frank? These shootings around town; that you?”

“Not all of them,” Frank replied. “A few. But somebody’s out there up to much worse things than me, Red.” He paused, brow furrowing. “I’m gonna keep calling you Red. That ok with you? Daredevil is a stupid name. But your new look...” Frank gestured vaguely at the all black suit.

Daredevil sighed. “We don’t have time for this, Frank.” He sounded exasperated and it pleased Frank more than he cared to admit. “Who are you after?”

“Don’t know exactly. But we had reliable information that they would be here tonight.”

“Which means they wanted you here,” Daredevil replied. “Which means it’s a trap.”

“We’re ready for a trap” Bucky answered. 

Frank thought he saw the look again.

“If they wanted you here,” Daredevil spoke after a moment. “Then maybe they didn’t want you somewhere else.” He paused again, and Frank could tell he was listening. Suddenly, the Devil stood up straight. “There’s someone… Get down!” He started to duck but the shots came too fast, two of them and Frank watched the first strike the Devil in the chest, the second in the arm. The first bullet seemed deadened by his armor, but the second ripped through the sleeve of his suit. Frank saw red and then watched Daredevil dropped to the ground, hurt. The other three men dropped defensively, pulling Daredevil back behind a mesh metal gate. Another shot rang out, hitting a metal beam and raining sparks down on the four men. 

Bucky raised his weapons. “I can’t see them!” he shouted.

“He’s not in the building,” Daredevil gasped. “He’s bouncing the bullets… It’s… But it can’t be…” The injured man’s voice sounded strained. He coughed. 

“We gotta get him out of here,” Clint said, applying pressure to the wound. “He’s losing a lot of blood. Fast. I think this may have grazed an artery.”

Three more shots were fired, each striking closer than the last to the four men. 

“Fuck!” Frank shouted, firing blindly into the darkness. “Red! What do you mean he’s not in the building? Where is he?”

Daredevil opened and closed his mouth. 

“Christ,” Bucky said. Then to Clint, “Can he be moved?”

“Don’t think we have much of a choice.” Clint dragged Daredevil deeper into the darkness.

Frank pulled off his belt and threw it at Clint. “Tourniquet.”

Clint nodded and wrapped the belt around the bleeding man’s upper arm, and Frank couldn’t help but notice the fact that the archer’s hands were already coated in red. “Where can we take him?”

Bucky held out his hand, palm side up as Shuri had showed him. A green face appeared almost immediately. “We need an extraction,” Bucky said. “NOW!”

“We’ve got someone in the area,” came the reply.

“We still gotta get out of the building,” Clint said, giving the belt one last pull before fastening it off.

“Where will you take him?” Frank asked. 

“Avengers headquarters. Upstate. Got a medic team there,” Bucky replied, eyeing the man laying on the ground. 

The lower half of Daredevil’s jaw was paler than it should be, even in the moonlight. The man wasn’t moving, but Frank thought he could still see him breathing. He ways laying in a pool of dark. Even with the blood loss, though, he went down faster than he should have. One shot rang out, but it seemed far away. “I can’t go with you,” Frank said quietly. 

Clint nodded at him. They all knew it was true.

Frank shook his head. “It was a trap alright. Just not for us.” The shots had stopped completely.

“You mean,” Bucky placed a hand on Daredevil’s chest. He could feel the man breathing, but it was shallow.

“It sounded like this guy knew who was shooting at us.” Clint paused. “Frank, who is this? You called him Red?”

“Daredevil. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“You’ve worked together?” Bucky asked.

Frank couldn’t help but laugh. “He certainly wouldn’t say that.” He looked over at the man, looking very human and fragile in this moment. “We’ve butted heads in the past. But we’re all on the same team. Everything that’s been happening, it was all centered in Hell’s Kitchen. Whoever it was, I think they were trying to draw him out.”

“And we ended up helping.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, pained. “Damn.”

Frank stepped forward out of their enclosure. He pointed his guns at the emptiness around them. Nothing happened. 

Outside, they heard the faint whine of Quinjet engines. 

“Let me take him,” Bucky said quietly, lifting Daredevil up as if he were a small child. 

Frank and Clint flanked Bucky, who was carrying Daredevil, as they walked quickly and cautiously out of the building. Guns and arrows were ready, but no attack came. 

“Don’t let them take off his mask,” Frank shouted at them, and then disappeared into the shadows. He watched the other two men carry Daredevil onto the Quinjet, and then the plane took off. 

Frank scanned the building, but his instincts told him the shooter was gone. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

> BB: They say they gotta take the mask off to check eyes for concussion?

Frank paused for just a moment. Then typed quickly in reply:

> Don’t let them. Won’t matter. He’s blind.

_Sorry Red. It was that or everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading. I think you can expect a small bonus chapter coming shortly. There are a LOT of plot points going on here, and I hope to start tying them together soon (for my sake as well as yours!!) Also, oh no why did I pick Bullseye? He's going to be a challenge to write!! Why couldn't I pick an easy villain, like Stilt-Man?!?! (Any DD comic fans out there?) Please leave Kudos or any comments you have. If there is something you want to see, please let me know! I have a vague outline of a plan, but I'm certainly willing to hear requests. I'm not promising I'll follow through on all of them, but hearing what you think always inspires me!!
> 
> As always, I'm mainly writing to please my lovely Beta team, Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat.


	10. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-Week bonus content for you! Enjoy!!

Bucky stared down at the phone in his hands. He couldn’t process what he was seeing. The fact that he had known it was true didn’t help the words make any more sense.

> Pnshr: Don’t let them. Won’t matter. He’s blind.

Bucky scowled at the phone. He had known. From the moment Bucky had seen him drop down from the ceiling, he had known. It wasn’t the jawline hiding under the five-o’clock shadow. It wasn’t the lips that Bucky had watched him bite, in concentration or frustration, over the past several weeks. It wasn’t even the way he moved, although Bucky rationally told himself it must have been all of those things and more put together. But in that moment, it wasn’t any of that. He had just known.

“SIR?!” The medic’s words jerked him back to reality. “It looks like he was injected with something. We need to check for a pupillary response!”

One medic had already cut away Daredevil’s suit, revealing a dark bruise forming above his heart. In the center was a small, red puncture wound. The first bullet hadn’t been a bullet at all. Bucky kicked himself for not noticing; for not looking for whatever had hit the man.

“You heard me,” Bucky replied forcefully, sitting down and strapping himself in to one of the seats in the jet. He pulled on the straps harder than he had intended to and they dug in. It hurt, and Bucky was glad for the pain. “The mask stays on! Figure out another way.”

The medic nodded and returned to her work. Bucky tried not to stare, but the cabin was small and - as more of the suit was cut away - he couldn’t help but notice the two large scars over the unconscious man’s pecs. They weren’t new; Bucky guessed they were at least a few years old, which told him this man had been Daredevil for quite some time.

Bucky wondered why he had never heard of him.

Ok, maybe not him specifically, since he had really never heard of anybody, but Clint also didn’t seem to know who the man was when he dropped down from the ceiling in front of them.

_How did he do that, anyway?_

_And furthermore,_ Bucky wondered, _if there are all these other enhanced people out there, why didn’t the Avengers ask them for help during the blip?_

Bucky thought about that one for a while, as he watched the medics work. He had been gone for five years. From what he heard, those five years had been hell. And yet he came back to almost no new Avengers. Just the blonde pilot, Carol. And she had been in space. Why weren’t there more? Why hadn’t Steve and Natalia enlisted the help of any enhanced people they could find? 

Were they super-hero snobs?

Was he?

“I’m going up to the front,” Clint said, and Bucky noticed him again for the first time. “We should be landing soon.” He walked to the front of the jet. The pilot stood, offering Clint the seat, but Clint waived him off, flopping down in the copilot’s chair instead and pulling out his phone.

Bucky nodded and then went back to his thoughts.

Had Matt Murdock - who was Daredevil, who was a blind lawyer, who could jump down from the ceiling and fight like a ninja and hear when bullets were coming from outside the building - known who he was that night in the bar? 

Had he known that Bucky was following him that entire time?

Eventually, Bucky looked down at the phone he was gripping tightly in his hands. He hastily typed out another message and sent it before he had time to think.

> You know who he is?

The reply came fairly quickly:

> Pnshr: Yeah. But he doesn’t know that I know.

Bucky thought about what he wanted to know. Why he wanted to know it. He hesitated only slightly and then typed back:

> You ever meet the other him? When he’s not Daredevil?

There was a slightly longer pause before:

> Pnshr: Yeah.

> Is he a good man?

Bucky watched the three dots on his phone blink in and out for a long time. His screen darkened, and then went to sleep. He still stared at it. Finally:

> Pnshr: Yeah

Bucky felt the plane touch down. The medics hurried Daredevil off the plane, and he followed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! While short, this was a challenging chapter for me. In my outline, I had Frank getting on the flight back to Avengers HQ with Bucky and Clint at the end of the last chapter. Then I had this conversation:
> 
> Me: Ok, now you all get on the plane.  
> Frank: No, I'm not going to do that.  
> Me: But... but I'm the author and I said you have to.  
> Frank: Listen, lady. That's all fine and good but if I get on that plane they're going to have to arrest me and nobody wants that.  
> Me: But I have scenes that take place there! Who will take care of Matt if you don't go?  
> Frank: Sorry, ma'am. But I can't see how that's my problem. [walks away]
> 
> So... While only a page long, this chapter is the start of me re-thinking a big chunk of my outline. Which, while panic inducing on my end, actually sounds like a better story than what I had originally planned. So thanks, Frank! You're an asshole but we all love you anyway!


	11. Matt and Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, all my thanks and love to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat.
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who is here reading every week. This somehow got over 200 hits since Tuesday and I am in awe. You are all the best ever!!!!

Matt knew there was something wrong before he was even fully awake. His senses were off and everything felt askew. Once, when he was a kid, before the accident, his father had taken him to Coney Island. He remembered going into the fun house. There had been a maze of mirrors that distorted everything - made you look fat and short, or skinny and tall, or wavy. Matt hadn’t liked it. He couldn’t find his way out of the maze and he had been scared. He had almost cried, until his father reached out and touched his shoulder. It hadn’t been much, but that simple act - a hand on his shoulder - grounded him. It helped him remember who and where he was, and how the world was supposed to feel. It stopped him from feeling like he was falling.

Matt sat up with a start. The arm was right next to him. His senses were failing him, but he could tell that much at least.

Bucky reached out and placed his right hand on Matt’s shoulder. “It’s going to be ok. The man in the building shot you with something. It knocked you out. The medics think it’s doing something to your sensory nervous system - its blocking information from being sent. They’re working on clearing whatever it was out of your system, but you need to lie still ok?”

Matt nodded. He didn’t have much other choice. He allowed Bucky to push him back down into the hospital bed. He allowed the hand on his shoulder to ground him. 

“Do you know who I am?” Matt asked. The voice he heard didn’t sound like his own. It sounded like it was coming from far away.

“You’ve still got your mask,” Bucky said. “I didn’t let them take it.”

“Doesn’t answer the question.” Matt thought the man’s hand was still on his shoulder, but he wasn’t sure. He pressed his own first finger and thumb together, but felt nothing.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered after a moment. “I know who you are.”

“Fuck.” Matt wondered if his voice sounded as strange to Bucky as it did in his own head. “Who else? Who else knows?”

“I haven’t told anybody,” Bucky replied, and Matt wanted to believe him. “Not going to, either. Not my place.”

Matt nodded. Or, at least he thought he did. Moving his head made him feel like he might pass out again. “Who are you?”

“You don’t know?”

“You’re the man from the bar. You’ve been following me. But who are you? What’s your name?”

“James Barnes. Call me Bucky.”

Matt tried to smile. “That’s what I thought. Wasn’t sure. Nice to meet you, Buck…” Matt’s voice broke. He desperately tried to hold on to consciousness.

He failed, slumping down deeper into the pillow under his head.

A small choking sound escaped from Bucky’s lips.

Bucky looked at the man on the hospital bed in front of him. He looked at the monitors Matt was hooked up to. They seemed the same. The medics had said that he shouldn’t even wake up for a few more hours, so Bucky wasn’t especially concerned that he had passed out again. Plus, if something was really wrong, Friday would notice and would alert the medical team.

That wasn’t what was bothering Bucky.

Matt had called Bucky “Buck.”

It almost certainly hadn’t been intentional. The man had passed out mid-word.

But he had called Bucky “Buck.”

And Bucky needed to be sure it never happened again.

Bucky sat down heavily in the chair he had pulled next to Matt’s hospital bed. They had landed three hours ago, and it had been late then. He didn’t usually need that much sleep, but he was suddenly exhausted. Bucky leaned back in the chair, and allowed his eyes to close.

***

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but Bucky knew exactly what woke him up. Matt Murdock was sitting up straight in the hospital bed, his eyes wide. Bucky was still groggy, and he watched Matt’s hands scramble frantically up to his face and, after finding his mask in place, move down to claw at his arm where the IV was sticking into him.

“Don’t.” Bucky’s voice was stern.

Matt jumped and turned his face towards Bucky. “Hurts.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“That’s good,” Bucky said standing. He put his hand over Matt’s, keeping the man from pulling out the IV. “It means your senses are coming back. How do you feel?”

Matt tilted his head and clenched and unclenched his fist. “Better,” he finally answered. “Not great, but better than before. Things are clearer.” Matt could feel Bucky’s enhanced heartbeat, slow and steady, beating in his fingertips where they touched Matt’s own hand

Bucky nodded. “That’s good. The IV has something in it that’s supposed to counteract whatever you got dosed with. The medic said it would be about twelve hours. It’s only been eight.”

“I heal fast.” Matt shifted his fingers slightly, and Bucky quickly removed his hand and took a step back from the bed. Matt touched the stitches on his arm. “What happened?”

“You were drugged. And also you were shot. The bullet grazed an artery. You lost a lot of blood.”

“I need to leave.”

“Where are you going to go?” Bucky asked, incredulous.

“Home,” Matt said, moving to stand. “There’s someone attacking my city.” Matt pushed off of the bed he had been sitting on, and onto his feet. His knees buckled and he stumbled.

Bucky was there, immediately, catching him, one arm under Matt’s elbow and the other on his back. Matt felt the vibrations of the metal arm rush through him, seeming to fill his entire body. Matt’s tried not to gasp. His knees shook. It was too much. He felt his brain shutting down again and he struggled to hold onto consciousness. 

Bucky felt Matt tremble under his touch and quickly helped him back up onto the bed. “Your city?” he replied with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You think you’re the only one out there? It’s been my city since sixty-five years before you were born, give or take. Besides, I’m sure Frank has it taken care of already.”

“Frank,” Matt sat up straighter on the bed but didn’t try to stand again, “is a psychopath and a serial killer. And I think he has a death-wish.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, just once. It was sharp and Matt flinched at it. “HE has a death-wish? He’s not the one sneaking up on Avengers in abandoned warehouses. Or using terrible pick-up lines on strange assassins at bars?”

Matt flinched again, shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t realize…”

“Would it have mattered?” Bucky heard his voice rising. He knew he was angrier than he should be. “You saw a man grieving in a bar and that was your response? You’re better than that!”

“How would you know?” Matt countered. His voice was weaker than he wanted it to be, but he pushed through. “How would you know what I’m like at all? Oh, wait. That’s right. Because you’ve been spying on me. Are you better than that? Because I haven’t been spying on you so I have no idea.”

“Had to know who you were.” Bucky countered, but his anger was subsiding already. He knew Matt was right. “A blind man who can fight like that? Doesn’t make any sense.”

“And yet you expect me to believe you haven’t told anyone what you learned?”

At that Bucky paused. Daredevil was right, of course. If he had been following Matt to find out who he was, then he should have immediately reported that discovery to Sam. But that’s not exactly what happened. “I…” Bucky had mostly calmed. His voice was quiet, but guarded. “I never really figured out Matt Murdock’s deal, did I?” he said. “Just happened to figure out Daredevil’s secret identity.”

Matt thought about that for a moment. “So you didn’t know until last night?”

Bucky shook his head. “When I saw you move, in the warehouse. That’s when I knew. Who was shooting at you?” 

“Why did you let me keep my mask,” Matt asked at the same time.

“Frank told me to. He said you would want it that way.”

Matt paused. This surprised him. He wouldn’t have expected Castle to be on his side in anything. “Why haven’t you told anyone who I am?”

“Like I said, it’s not my place.”

“Why were you following me?” Matt’s voice wasn’t accusatory. They were past that. He was just curious.

“I messed up. At that bar. Shouldn’ta reacted the way I did. Felt bad. Wanted to make sure you were ok.” Bucky paused. “Wanted to know how you could fight the way you did.”

“You could have just asked,” Matt responded with a smile.

“You would have told me?”

Matt shook his head. “Nah. Probably not.” 

“How did you know I was following you?”

“Your arm…” Matt flexed his fingers, feeling the muscles of his own arm ripple up to where he had been shot. Then he sat up straight, remembering. “Poindexter!”

“What?”

“The man who was shooting at us. His name is Benjamin Poindexter. He was an FBI agent who got corrupted by Wilson Fisk. He… He shouldn’t be able to walk. Fisk broke his back. I thought he was dead. At the very least he should be in jail.”

Bucky watched Matt carefully as the man sat, remembering. Matt’s lips tightened as his head moved back and forth.

“There was something wrong with him, though,” Matt finally spoke.

“Wrong how? And you said he wasn’t in the building? How is that possible? How would you know?”

“His bones,” Matt continued as if Bucky hadn’t spoken. “I think his bones were coated in metal.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks, staring at Matt. The man may as well have said that they were being shot at by space aliens. Wait, Bucky thought. No, that would make a lot more sense. I have been shot at by space aliens. “You’re fucking with me.”

Matt turned his face towards Bucky, as if remembering he were there.

“Also, how could you possibly know that?”

“I heard it,” Matt said quietly. “Metal sounds different than skin and bone.” He nodded at Bucky’s arm. “Not the same as yours, though. This was some kind of steel alloy I think. Yours…” Matt grew quiet again, cocking his head. “I don’t know what it is. It absorbs sound and light and heat. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Felt?” Bucky stepped closer to him. “How are you doing this?”

“Poindexter wasn’t in the building. He was bouncing his bullets off the walls. That’s why you didn’t see him in there and why the bullets came from the wrong direction.”

“That’s not even possible,” Bucky tried to interrupt.

“He’s done it before. I was there,” Matt continued. “Fisk broke Poindexter’s back and somebody must have fixed it using some sort of steel alloy. Now he’s coming after you.” Matt paused and smiled faintly. The color was returning to his face. Bucky thought he looked remarkably stronger, even just since waking up. “How am I doing this? I’m Daredevil and this is what Daredevil does.”

“He’s not coming after me,” Bucky said, ignoring the last part.

“Sure seemed like he was,” Matt replied. Then: “Somebody’s coming.” He nodded at the door.

Bucky turned. Nobody was there. He was about to turn back, to call Matt out, when the door opened and Clint walked in.

“Did you tell him?” Clint asked.

Bucky gaped at Matt. “I was just getting there,” he replied to Clint.

“Hmm…” Clint gave Matt a once over. “You’re looking a lot better, guy. You going to take that mask off.”

“You going to make me?” Matt asked back.

Clint shook his head, no. “Of course not. But we’re all on the same team here. You can trust us.”

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where I am. For all I know, I’m a prisoner here.”

“Oh.” Clint held out his hand. Carefully, Matt reached out his own and shook it. His senses were coming back, but he still didn’t trust them fully. “Clint Barton. Hawkeye. Welcome to Avengers HQ.”

Matt paused for a moment before pulling his hand away. Hawkeye, of course. That explains the arrows. “Nice to meet you. And I’m sorry. But I can’t let anyone know my identity. Too many people could get hurt if it got out.”

Clint narrowed his eyes at Matt. “We’ve all got family. We trust each other. That’s how this works.”

“I’m sorry. But I don’t know you well enough to trust you.”

Clint regarded him for a minute longer, then nodded. “Fair enough. So here’s what we know. We went to that warehouse on a tip that a guy we’ve been looking for was going to be there. I’m assuming you went for the same reason?”

Matt nodded. It was more or less true.

“The info was too good, and we all expected it to be a trap. We were prepared for a trap. Unfortunately,” Clint paused, “it seems like the trap wasn’t for us. It was for you.”

“For me? Why would you…?”

“Shooting didn’t start until you showed up. Stopped once you went down. You were clearly the target. Plus, you said you knew the guy?”

“Yeah. I told Bucky…” Matt paused, feeling Bucky stiffen at hearing his name. His heart rate climbed. Matt continued cautiously. “His name is Benjamin Poindexter. He used to be FBI. Worked for Wilson Fisk. If you want to look into him, you might want to check with Detective Sergeant Brett Mahoney at the 15th precinct. He should know where Poindexter is supposed to be.”

“Daredevil says Poindexter’s bones are made of metal,” Bucky said, flexing his arm.

“How would you know that?” Clint asked.

“He heard it,” Bucky replied, slightly incredulous.

Clint whistled low. “Ok, now that’s impressive. Thanks. We’ll look into all of that. Is there somewhere we can reach you, if we need anything else?”

Matt didn’t have an answer. He felt ridiculous.

“I’ll get you a burner phone. Something you can use to contact us, and we can use to contact you. Just in case. And I’ll find you some clothes you can wear home. Not sure how you want to handle that, though. I mean, we can drop you off somewhere if that works for you.”

“Thanks. Clothes would be nice.”

Clint turned and walked out of the room.

Once the doors had shut behind him, Matt spoke. “You going to tell him? Tell everybody? That’s your job, isn’t it? Shouldn’t be keeping a secret from the rest of the Avengers.”

“M’not gonna tell anybody, so stop asking me that! But we could help more if everyone knew.”

Matt shook his head, no.

“Why?”

“Why’d you tense up when I said your name?” Matt changed the subject.

Bucky bit his lower lip. He was silent for almost a full minute. Matt listened to his heart racing as he debated with himself. “Fine,” he finally spoke. “You want honesty and so do I. I’ll start. Maybe you’ll follow.” He paused again. Matt heard him take a deep breath, bracing himself. “When you were awake, the first time. Do you remember that?”

Matt nodded.

“You called me Buck. I don’t think you meant to. I think you passed out mid-word. But it hurt and now that’s all I hear.”

Matt waited patiently. He knew Bucky had more to say and he didn’t want to push the man to hurry.

“That’s what Steve used to call me. Before. When we were...” Bucky trailed off.

“Steve…?” Matt asked before he could stop himself. “You mean, Steve Rogers?” If Bucky could have seen Matt’s eyes under the mask, he would have seen them grow wide with the realization. “You two are… were…? He’s the man you were talking about when I…? I’m sorry. I had no idea. But you said he went away. Captain America didn’t blip out. He saved everyone.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, he did. And then he went back in time and lived his life with a woman he knew before he was frozen. Before he was Captain America, even.”

“What?” Matt said. Even through the mask, Bucky could see the disbelief in his face. “He went back in time?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a shrug. “He went back in time. We have a time-machine. That’s how they undid the snap. It doesn’t work the way you think it does. It’s not like the movies.”

Matt shook his head. He would need to process ‘time machine’ later. “How long were you together?”

“Since we were kids.”

“Fuck,” Matt muttered under his breath. “So, your boyfriend of one-hundred or so years goes back in time to leave you for a woman, and then – what – a few weeks later, some douchebag lawyer hits on you in a bar? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“That night.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“It was the same night.” Bucky’s voice sounded broken. “He left that day. Was supposed to come back five seconds later. Took the long way around. Came back old.”

“Jesus, Bu…” Matt stopped himself from saying the man’s name. “I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I could have been more sensitive. What would you like me to call you, then?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said. “Let me think about it. Why don’t you want anyone to know who you are?”

“It would be bad,” Matt said, “not just for me but for my partner.” Matt felt Bucky stiffen again. “My law partner,” he quickly clarified. “It’s a conflict of interest. Anyone Daredevil helped apprehend could demand a mistrial. We’re not a big firm by any means, but that’s still a lot of criminals back on the street. Plus we would both be disbarred. Could even be arrested for contempt of court.”

Bucky nodded. “That makes sense. How do you…” he paused, gesturing at Matt. “How do you do what you do? Frank said you’re really blind.”

Matt froze. Bucky realized his mistake immediately.

“Frank knows?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, looking at the ground. “He knows. But I didn’t tell him! I didn’t lie about that. He’s the one who confirmed it for me. They… on the plane. The medics wanted to take your mask off, to check your eyes for concussion. Frank said not to let them. That it wouldn’t matter anyway because you were blind.”

Matt dropped his head into his hands. _Frank knew._ This was a nightmare.

“He’s a good guy,” Bucky said.

“He kills people,” Matt responded, not lifting his head.

“So do I.”

That took Matt aback. He lifted up his head. “That’s different,” he said. “I remember hearing about you, when your story came out. You were brainwashed. You didn’t have control.”

“If you think I haven’t killed anyone since then, you’re delusional,” Bucky said. “Listen, you have your code and I respect that. But big picture? It’s not realistic. Frank takes it to an extreme. He has a problem and I’m not arguing that. But sometimes… Sometimes you don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Matt said coldly.

“No, no you’re right,” Bucky said sarcastically, beginning to pace the room. “You always have a choice. You had a choice, with this Poindexter guy, right? You could have killed him? But you didn’t. And now what’s happening? He’s trying to kill you. Or worse. He could have killed you last night. He chose not to. Why? What else does he have planned? How you gonna stop him? You gonna put him in jail? Let Matt Murdock, Attorney at Law, put him on trial? What if that doesn’t work? Guys like that, they don’t stay in jail. He’s after you. You don’t kill him, he will kill you. That’s your choice. What are you gonna do?”

Matt was silent. He dropped his head to his hands again.

“Frank knew, and he used that knowledge to protect you. You gonna let the Avengers do the same?”

Matt bit his lower lip. 

“Listen,” Bucky could see Matt’s defenses falling. “We’ve been tracking this Poindexter guy. From what we’ve seen, he doesn’t miss. Matt...”

Matt turned his face up to Bucky’s at the sound of his name. 

“This guy shot you in the heart.” Bucky continued. “You’d be dead right now if he wanted you to be. The bullet in your arm was millimeters away from your artery. I don’t think that was a miss, either. He wants you alive, and until you know why you shouldn’t be facing him on your own.”

“I’d be a fool not to accept your help.”

“Pretty much.”

“And you’re not going to have me arrested? Or make me have a press conference where my identity is announced?” Matt sounded tired. 

Bucky snorted. “Said we could help. Nobodys inviting you to become an Avenger.”

Matt sighed, then he pulled off his mask. “Now what?” He heard Bucky’s heart rate rise, just slightly, at the sight of his face. It made Matt feel warm inside.

“How do you work?” Bucky asked.

“There was an accident, when I was young. A truck carrying some chemicals crashed, hit me. The chemicals spilled. They blinded me, but my other senses were enhanced. I can hear, smell, taste, feel… way more than what other people can.”

“I have enhanced senses, from the super-soldier serum I was given,” Bucky said.

Matt nodded. “Yeah, I read about that. Not with you but with Captain America. He was kind of a hero of mine, when I was young. I liked to think we had something in common. And when he went rogue it made me feel like maybe what I was doing as Daredevil wasn’t all bad.” Matt suddenly realized what he was saying, and who he was saying it to. His face quickly hardened as he continued. “My senses are like that, but more.” Matt heard footsteps in the hallway again. Someone new, carrying a pile of fabric. He nodded towards the door. “Clothes are here, I think.”

Bucky turned at looked at the door, which opened just a few moments later.

“Oh,” the voice was surprised and young. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was told that you were wearing a mask and… I mean, I could go?”

“It’s ok, kid,” Bucky said. “He’s come to his senses.”

“Oh great, because I’ve already seen your face so that would be embarrassing and I’m a really big fan.” Peter walked over and dropped the clothes on the table next to Matt. 

Matt ran his fingers over them, finding what felt like a shirt and holding it up. He ran his fingers over it, finding the neck hole and the tag. Confirmed. Shirt. He pulled it over his head. 

The kid continued: “Peter. Peter Parker,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Spider-Man and I’ve seen all of your YouTube videos and you are just absolutely amazing. The way you jump off of buildings is insane. I mean, I know I jump off of buildings, too, but I’ve got the webs and, well I guess you’ve got your rope thingy, which is probably more than a rope so I’m sorry if I’ve offended you I don’t mean to be weird I just get really excited sometimes and you’re a pretty big deal and…”

“Thank you,” Matt cut him off, shaking his hand briskly. This must be Pete who the woman talked about the night before. “Daredevil.” He paused. This felt weird and wrong and, oh well. He was going with it. “Matt Murdock.” Then: “Wait. I have YouTube videos?”

“Yeah, you do. I’ve watched them a bunch of times. The way you fight is unreal. Are you a ninja? Once I saw this thing where you like ran up a wall and flipped over and kicked a guy in the head and…”

Bucky remembered that move too.

“...and I can kind of do something like that but my feet stick to the wall so it’s different. Unless your feet stick to the wall too, which would be so cool to not be the only one…”

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen any of your videos,” Matt cut him off again. He wondered when the kid stopped to breathe.

“Oh.” 

You didn’t have to have Matt Murdock’s enhanced ears to hear the pain in Peter’s voice.

Matt realized his mistake immediately. “Oh, no kid it’s not like that. I’m so sorry. I haven’t seen your videos or my videos or anyone’s videos.” He paused for a moment. Was this really happening? He had already said his name. At this point, it was kind of too late not to go all in, wasn’t it? Matt took a deep breath, then continued. “I’m blind, so really there’s no video watching for me.”

Bucky watched the realization sweep across Peter’s face. Matt listened to his sharp intake of breath and the slight increase of his heart rate.

“You’re… you’re blind? But how? I mean, no offense, sir, but how do you do it then? The fighting and stuff, I mean.”

“Everything else is enhanced,” Matt said, not feeling like going through it all again. “It’s almost like radar.”

“That is super awesome, sir.”

Matt smiled, genuinely. He couldn’t remember ever being called “super awesome” before. “And you? How do you do what you do? You’re young.”

“I’m 16!” Peter objected! “I bet you were out kicking ass when you were 16. Anyway, how do you even know I’m young if you can’t see me?”

Matt flashed Peter a devilish smile. He liked this kid. “I can hear your bones growing.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. He looked at Bucky for confirmation. Bucky shrugged and shook his head. “I know as much as you do, kid.”

Matt laughed despite himself. “No, not really. But other things sound different when a body isn’t quite done growing yet. Plus hearts sound different as people get older.” Matt got serious. “I can hear you’re enhanced. I can hear your muscles. They’re stronger than they should be. You’re wearing regular clothes, but you’ve got something mechanical on your wrists. It’s impressive. Nanotechnology?”

Peter nodded. “My webs.” Then, “Oh, shit I’m sorry, sir. I just nodded.”

“Yeah,” Matt continued. “I know. Also, if you’re only 16, you should really watch your language, shouldn’t you? Don’t let this one be a bad influence on you.” He nodded at Bucky.

Bucky stared at him, in awe. “What else?” he asked.

“About Peter or in general?”

“Both,” Bucky and Peter replied in unison.

Matt smiled again. It was weird to be out in the open like this, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he enjoyed showing off. “Ok, well, Peter, you had a ham sandwich for lunch and you’re still hungry. And Bucky, you haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours but you’re not hungry. Also, while I know you’re a hundred years old, I would guess you’re maybe thirty-five or thirty-six, just based on what your body sounds like. Except you’ve been exposed to mustard gas and tuberculosis, which doesn’t make any sense for someone your apparent age. And, of course, there’s the arm…” Matt trailed off.

“Go on,” Bucky prompted him after a minute of silence.

“I don’t understand the arm,” Matt finally answered him. “I don’t know what it is. It doesn’t make any sense at all. May I?” he reached out his hand.

Bucky held out his vibranium hand tentatively, and Matt placed his own hand on top of it. The vibrations from it filled his body, pushing out everything else. He felt his breath become ragged. He pushed deeper, trying to scan the inside of the arm. Suddenly, it was enveloping him, changing the reds of his world into purple. It crawled with energy and life. It wasn’t just vibrating now. It was pulsing. It rippled under his hand, shifting into place, and Matt felt the ripples down his entire body. He felt as if he were sinking. It almost felt as if the arm were pulling him into it. 

Matt pulled his hand away. He could feel Bucky and Peter staring at him. “What is it made out of?” he choked out.

“Vibranium,” Bucky replied. “From Wakanda. It’s Wakanda tech, too.”

“It’s really something else.”

Bucky stared at him. Matt was breathless. Beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead. His pupils were blown wide. The man looked like he had been fucked hard, just from touching Bucky’s arm for 30 seconds. That thought brought up several images in Bucky’s head, which he quickly pushed away.

“I’m sorry. I mean, thank you.” Matt’s voice cracked slightly as he tried to regain control. “One of the more interesting things I’ve touched recently.” He smiled weakly at Bucky.

Bucky nodded. He wondered if Matt knew what he looked like right now.

Peter looked on at both of them, clearly confused. “Well, um… I should go ok? But please, Mr. Daredevil Murdock, sir, if you ever want to team up or anything like that, let me know, ok? Oh!” he pulled a phone out of his back pocket. “I almost forgot. Mr. Barton gave this to me to give to you. Hold on.” Peter tapped on the phone quickly. “There. Now it has my number in it too. You can reach out to me any time, even if you just want to hang out or whatever. Oh!” Peter scowled down at the phone, tapping away aggressively. “Ok. I turned on TalkBack. Now it will read you everything and you can dictate to it.” 

“Thanks,” Matt said, taking the phone. “Setting it up is always the hardest part.” _There is absolutely no way I’m putting a kid like you in danger,_ he thought, but he kept that to himself.

Peter nodded quickly, and then dashed out of the room.

The two men stood in silence.

“So,” Bucky finally said.

“So…” Matt replied.

Bucky took the phone out of his hand and tapped into it. “There. Now you have my number, too. For emergencies.” He handed it back to Matt. “It’s under James.”

“Thanks,” Matt said uncomfortably, “James. Listen, about the bar…”

“Oh, right!” Bucky said suddenly. He fished in his back pocket, pulling out a crumpled fifty-dollar bill, which he pressed into Matt’s palm. “For the drinks,” he said. “It’s fifty bucks. That probably doesn’t even cover it, but it’s all I have right now.”

“It’s plenty,” Matt replied. “You don’t have to…”

“Just take it,” Bucky said firmly.

Matt nodded.

Silence.

“You can probably take the IV out now,” Bucky said. “Your senses seem to be back to normal. That was pretty impressive.”

“Thanks,” Matt said quietly. He considered the IV for a minute. “We should check with the medics first. I’m still not 100%.”

Bucky blinked at that in disbelief. Everything Matt had just done and he wasn’t at 100%? “Alright… I’ll go find someone. And then I’ll look into getting you back home.”

Matt nodded, eyes downcast. Bucky paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more. Matt listened to Bucky’s heart race. Then, Bucky turned and left the room.

Matt stood there, saying a silent prayer that Bucky hadn’t noticed how much touching the vibranium arm had affected him. He wasn’t hopeful. He was still wearing the suit from the waist down, and it didn’t leave much to the imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG STOP BICKERING AND JUST KISS ALREADY!!!!
> 
> Anyway... probably my number one ship in Marvel is Team Red, but that doesn't work very well when Peter is 16 and Matt is probably 30. (The Netflix series doesn't say for sure, but it does reference that Sister Maggie has been with the church for about 30 years, so he's got to be right around that age.) So, instead, I give you Hero-Worshiping Peter Parker and Protective Dad Matt Murdock. I have to imagine we will see more of them. I don't think Wade will show up, because it's not really that kind of story, but let's not totally rule anything out at this point...
> 
> As always, I love your comments! I'm not saying I've printed any of them out and carried them around in my back pocket to read when my children are being especially challenging, but I'm also not saying that I haven't done that. The only thing that I'm saying for sure is that is a very specific and strange thing to write.


	12. Foggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to the always beautiful Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat. Also, thanks to HaniTrash for letting me bounce ideas off of her. I LOVE YOU ALL!!

Foggy Nelson might not have his best friend’s enhanced powers of observation, but he wasn’t an idiot. And, ok, Matt might have graduated summa cum laude while he was only cum laude, but that was all politics anyway and he’d been working more real cases since then, what with Matt always getting distracted by his night job, and with Foggy spending time at Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz. Add to that the fact that Matt had been gone for five years. He didn’t even understand how the world worked anymore. Foggy was a good lawyer, was his point, and being a good lawyer meant being able to read people’s emotional wellbeing. If someone was stressed, or nervous, or anxious, well these were all important clues that a lawyer could use to win a case. They needed to be recognized for what they were.

And Foggy could read Matt’s emotional well-being better than anyone else could.

Right now, it was not good.

Matt Murdock, his best friend and partner, looked almost drunk, or almost hungover, or almost like he had a concussion, but Foggy knew it wasn’t any of these things. He had seen all of those looks on his friend, and this was something else entirely. Foggy knew what this was. He hadn’t seen it quite as many times as drunk, hungover, or concussed, but he had seen it enough.

He and Karen had been out of their minds the day before when Matt hadn’t shown up for work. They’d called him, and he hadn’t answered. Then Foggy had called Danny, who told him that Matt had taken Danny and Colleen’s shift the night before - by himself - because Matt has a goddamned death-wish or something. Then they tried to track Matt’s phone, but of course he had turned off his location services, because he had only promised them a hundred times that he would leave them on when he went out. No surprises there. So they went to Matt’s apartment and the suit was gone, obviously, and there was no sign of Matt. And then. And Then! AND THEN!! Frank Castle - the Frank Castle, not some other Frank Castle - had shown up at Matt’s apartment and Karen had hugged him. 

LIKE. 

THEY. 

WERE. 

FRIENDS. 

Like they were more than friends, actually. 

And Frank Castle had informed them that he, and Bucky Barnes, and Hawkeye, AND MATT had been fighting somebody in a warehouse in Hell’s kitchen and that Matt had been shot. SHOT!

“Your friend,” Castle had said. That’s what he had called him: ‘your friend,’ and then he had wiggled his fingers over his head by his ears as if they were horns for fuck’s sake. “Your friend, he got hurt. But he’s ok. We were out last night, you know, and somebody started shootin’ at him. And he got hit but he’s ok. The Avengers, they took him. It was uh, it was Bucky Barnes and Clint… um, Hawkeye, and they took him on a jet back to their HQ but they’ve texted me and he’s going to be fine. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Frank Castle; so fucking thoughtful. 

And then Karen had hugged him again, and asked how he - how Frank - was doing. And he had told her that he was fine - “good, actually,” and she had said “that’s great” in her choked voice that Foggy had only ever heard her use on Matt, although that was a long time ago, and then she had told Frank to call her. And he said that he would. So now that was a thing that Foggy was going to have to know for the rest of his life.

Then Castle left, and they went back to the office and sat in silence, because what was there to say? Karen had apparently known that Frank Castle was alive, and Matt had apparently told Frank Castle about Daredevil, and NOBODY TOLD FOGGY ANYTHING EVER.

Matt had called that evening to let them know that someone named Luis was bringing him home. Foggy had suggested he go to Matt’s apartment, to wait for him, to be there to help him because - you know - he’d gotten shot the night before. But of course Matt said no, because he’s fucking Matt Murdock and doesn’t need any help from anyone ever. Except Frank Castle, apparently. 

And, ok, maybe Matt wasn’t the only one whose mental well-being wasn’t so great, Foggy admitted to himself.

Now Matt was sitting at his desk, staring at papers spread out in front of him. Or, to an outside observer it would have looked like he was staring. Of course he wasn’t staring. Matt Murdock didn’t stare. And he hadn’t touched the papers for the past 15 minutes, so he wasn’t reading either. 

Drunk, or hungover, or concussed, but not quite.

“Hey,” Foggy called out to him. 

Matt jerked his head up.

“Let’s talk about it.”

Matt shook his head. “No, I’ve already put us behind on all this,” he said, gesturing at the papers in front of him. “So let’s just work. We can talk later.”

“Except you’re not working at all, buddy,” Foggy countered. “And neither am I. You’re lost in dreamland over there, and I’m too busy watching you which, by the way, you haven’t even noticed and I think that says a lot about your state of mind right now.”

Matt sighed, and Foggy could tell it wasn’t frustration or exasperation. It was just exhaustion. Matt turned his chair towards Foggy and leaned his head back. “Everything’s going to hell. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Foggy nodded.

“They all know, Foggy. Too many people know. I didn’t feel like I had a choice. How do you keep something like that a secret when the Avengers are doing the asking?”

“You don’t,” Foggy answered. “I get that part, Matt, I really do. I’m not even mad you told them. And it’ll be good for you to have help sometimes. But what I don’t understand is how it even got that far.” He paused. “Why were you out fighting with Frank Castle? I thought we all agreed he was a bad guy.” Foggy snuck a glance over his shoulder at Karen. She had her headphones on and seemed to be engrossed in whatever was happening on her computer.

“She’s not listening,” Matt confirmed.

“Wait, you know about them, too?”

“One question at a time, ok counselor?” Matt smiled.

“I am in no mood for your charm, Murdock. Fine. One question at a time. Why was Daredevil out with Frank Castle last night?”

“We weren’t out…” Matt took his glasses off and ran his fingers through his hair. “Give me a break, Foggy you make it sound like we were on a date or something.”

“For all I know you were, Matt. Maybe everybody in this office is dating Frank Castle except me. Maybe I should start dating Frank Castle too. I mean, he’s a handsome man. He likes dogs. He’ll call you ma’am if that’s what you’re into. I bet he’s very generous in the bedroom.” Foggy was being mean. He could feel himself being mean. His best friend had been shot and he was making it about himself. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I was worried. You didn’t let us know what was up, and having Castle be the one to come here and tell me you’d been shot was probably the worst-case scenario. Just tell me what happened, ok? I promise I won’t interrupt anymore.”

Matt smiled gently. “I was following Barnes.”

“And it really was Bucky Barnes?” _So much for not interrupting. Oh well._

“It really was,” Matt continued unbothered. “I was following him, and he met up with Frank and Clint.”

“Clint is Hawkeye?”

“Yeah. Clint Barton. Hawkeye. So the three of them went into this old warehouse and I followed them and confronted them.”

“Because that’s smart when you’re dealing with a dead murderer and two Avengers.”

Matt laughed. “You want me to tell the story or not? I could take out the parts that are going to make you upset if you want, but it will be a much shorter story.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Foggy held up his hands. “Please continue.”

“It’s ok.” Matt was grinning now. “So I confronted them, but it was a trap and Benjamin Poindexter started shooting at us. Yeah, I thought he was dead too,” Matt said before Foggy could interrupt again. “But apparently he’s not and apparently he’s not in jail either. Clint’s going to follow up with Mahoney about it. Better him than us.”

Foggy nodded in agreement. Mahoney was already mad at both of them for reasons that Foggy couldn’t even remember anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with that today on top of everything else.

“I’m going to see if Misty knows anything, too. So, basically I agreed to let the Avengers help me bring Poindexter in.”

“You... come on, Matt.” Foggy couldn’t help but interrupt again. “I mean, you’re great but they’re the Avengers. They’re the ones letting you help.”

Matt shrugged. “Ok, yeah you’re probably right.”

“So then what?”

“Well,” Matt continued, “after I got shot they apparently flew me upstate to their headquarters. I was out. Poindexter drugged me. When I woke up, James was there. He made them leave the mask on. He protected me; protected us. But he knew who I was and he wanted me to tell the rest of the Avengers. And after talking to him for a while, I agreed. I met Sam Wilson, who is Falcon and also now Captain America too, I guess; and I met the Hulk, who is smart which is very strange; and I met Wanda Maximoff, who is Scarlet Witch; and I met Scott Lang, who is Ant-Man who I had never heard of. Oh! And I met Spider-Man.” 

“You get to have all the fun,” Foggy whined.

“I did get shot first.”

“You met Spider-Man, though. That almost makes it worth it.”

"Ok, but Foggy," Matt leaned forward as if telling a secret. "You didn't have to live through the ride home. This guy was one of Scott Lang's friends, and I swear he did not stop talking for the entire..."

“Matt, there’s someone here to see you,” Karen interrupted. 

“Thanks. I’m not expecting anyone,” Matt said, putting his glasses back on and grabbing the cane that had been leaning against his desk. “Did they say who they were?”

“It’s a kid,” Karen said. “Peter? Says he’s an intern at Stark Industries and he’s got something for you.”

Foggy looked at Matt, wide-eyed.

“Oh. Um… Thanks, Karen. Send him in.”

Karen pushed the door open wider, and Peter walked in. He was shorter, with messy brown hair and Foggy thought he looked very much like the tech type. Foggy was slightly disappointed. He was hoping to meet an Avenger. 

“Hi Mr. Murdock, very nice to meet you,” Peter said almost too quickly, holding out his hand. He was carrying an expensive looking Stark Industries branded duffel bag. Matt paused, then held out his own slightly to the left of Peter’s. Foggy fought back an audible groan. He hated this game. Foggy watched Peter’s surprise and embarrassment, and then the poor kid quickly adjusted to shake Matt’s hand.

“I, um, I have something for you,” Peter stuttered. “The Stark Foundation has noticed the great work this firm has been doing and wanted to give you this as a token of their appreciation.” The line sounded rehearsed. Peter pulled a folded envelope out of his back pocket and held it out. Karen moved first, grabbing the envelope and opening it carefully. 

“This is a check,” she said, surprised. “This is, like, a really, really big check.” She handed it to Foggy.

He blinked twice, taking it in. Then looked back up at the kid. “What is this for, again?” he asked.

Peter smiled. “It’s from the Stark Foundation, as a thanks for the good work you’ve been doing after the blip.” Peter looked at each of their shocked faces. “Oh. Um, I was told to tell you that it’s ok. The Stark Foundation isn’t affiliated with Stark Industries at all, so… um… there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest if you ever had a Stark Industries case in the future.” The kid shifted uncomfortably under what appeared to be a heavy bag.

“Thank you,” Matt said. “And please thank whoever made this decision.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Murdock,” Peter said with a big smile. “I mean, the whole team… um… board makes these decisions together, and it was pretty much unanimous. But it’s Ms. Potts who makes the final decision so I’ll be sure to say something.” Peter paused. “Also, I was curious if you guys needed any help around here. I mean, I was interning over at Stark Industries with Mr. Stark directly, so that’s over,” he paused for a moment, sadly, then looked up at Matt. “And I’m kind of interested in... um... law so I was just wondering if maybe, if you guys ever needed a courier or something like that even. I’m pretty fast and reliable and I’m sure I could get a good reference from S.I.”

Peter trailed off.

“Thanks, Peter,” Matt said after a moment. “We’ll certainly consider it, ok?”

There was something in Matt’s voice that Foggy couldn’t quite place. 

“Well… um, thanks then,” Peter said awkwardly, shifting his bag again. He turned, and walked out of the office. Karen followed, closing the door behind him.

“It’s a lot of money,” Foggy said to Matt, handing over the check.

Matt ran his fingers over it. “Jesus Christ.”

“Do you think all the Avengers make this much?”

“I’m not an Avenger, Foggy.” Matt countered, still touching the check in disbelief. “And I don’t know what this is.”

“But we’re keeping it, right?” Foggy asked, taking the check back.

“Damn straight we are,” Karen replied, walking back into the room.

“I don’t know…” Matt said, taking a seat. 

_He was starting to look better,_ Foggy thought, _before the kid showed up. He had looked better, but now he’s back to not quite drunk or hungover or concussed._  

“Don’t be so arrogant, Matt!”

Foggy was momentarily taken back by the anger in Karen’s voice.

“Not everything is about you,” she continued. “Ok, so you’re trying to bang an Avenger or whatever.”

“I am not…” Matt tried to interrupt, but Karen kept talking.

“Who’s to say that this has anything to do with that? The Stark Foundation consistently recognizes organizations doing good in their communities. We are doing good in our community, Matt. And that’s a ‘we!’” Karen gestured aggressively at all three of them. “Not just a you.”

Foggy settled down into a chair, smiling. He loved when Karen got like this. She was the only person he had ever seen put Matt so totally and completely in his place.

“You think you’re so special because you have a fancy side-hustle that only Matt Murdock is good enough for,” Karen continued, “but that doesn’t mean Foggy and I are useless. We earned this money. We. All of us. We deserve it. And more than that, we need it. If you have any interest in keeping this firm going, then you need to get over yourself and accept that Daredevil is not the best thing that Nelson, Murdock, and Page has going for it.” She crossed her arms across her chest and blushed slightly, realizing her outburst.

“Hear hear,” Matt said. “You are absolutely right, and I’m sorry.”

“Ok… well… I’m going to go keep working on… what I was working on.” Karen turned and walked out of the room and back to her desk, putting her headphones back on.

“What is she working on, anyway?” Foggy asked.

Matt didn’t answer. Foggy watched him cock his head slightly, the way he did when he was listening. His brow furrowed for a moment, then Foggy thought he heard a “thud” and Matt’s eyes widened with surprise.”

“Matt?”

“Hmmm? What? Sorry.”

“Is everything ok?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah. Yes, of course,” Matt replied quickly, shaking his head. 

“I thought I heard something outside,” Foggy said, walking to the window and looking out. He didn’t see anything.  
  
“Oh?” Matt asked. “I’m sorry; I didn’t hear anything.”

Foggy glared at him, then decided it wasn’t worth it. “Do you know what Karen is working on?”

“Yeah. Sure, she…” he paused, listening again. “She’s seeing if Castle made the news. So far he hasn’t.”

“How long have you known?” Foggy asked. “About the two of them, I mean?”

“Oh… well she visited him in the hospital once, right before the blip. They’ve been seeing each other on and off since.”

“And you never thought to tell me?” Foggy was hurt. 

“It’s better that we don’t know, isn’t it?” Matt asked. “I mean, she never told me. She just suddenly started smelling like him once or twice a week.”

“That’s the creepiest thing you’ve ever told me, Matt. And that’s saying a lot.”

Matt shrugged. “You asked?” His hands went down to the pages in front of him, and he began reading them in earnest. But, as Foggy watched, his attention soon drifted again and his fingers stilled.

Foggy smiled.

_Not Drunk. Not hungover. Not concussed._

_Matt has a crush._

“Alright, so tell me about him. Tell me about Bucky Barnes.”

Matt turned to face him, and Foggy noticed again how tired he looked.

“Well, he’s a hundred-year-old World War II veteran, turned super-soldier, turned assassin, turned Avenger?” Matt replied.

“Tell me something I don’t already know!”

Matt thought for a moment. “His arm is vibranium, like you suspected, and it’s new. It’s from Wakanda. Vibranium…” He paused, searching for the words. “When I touched it, it felt alive. Not like skin, of course, but as if the metal itself was alive. It was like… like it moved? The arm has plates that shift and move and slide together and over each other, but that’s not what I mean. The metal itself, where it should have been solid, felt like it moved under my fingertips. It was intense. I...”

“I’m sorry, Matt,” Foggy interrupted, “but how long did you spend touching this guy’s arm? You know I love you no matter who you love, but I’m thinking I maybe don’t want to hear the end of this particular story?” 

“What? No, Foggy. No, it’s not like that. He doesn’t… He’s not… James isn’t interested in me like that. Not now. I don’t think he’s looking to be with anyone right now.”

“James?” Foggy asked. 

“Yeah, that’s what he asked me to call him.”

“If he’s asking you to call him by his super-sexy-formal-name, it sounds like maybe he is interested in you. Besides,” Foggy leaned back and kicked his feet up onto Matt’s desk, “I know you haven’t seen yourself recently, but just let me reassert the fact that everyone is interested in you, Matt Murdock.”

“Oh really?” Matt laughed. “Is that so? Should I tell Marci that she has something to be nervous about?”

“Please. She would just agree. I mean, she hates you but she loves watching you leave. She’s said so herself.”

“That makes me deeply uncomfortable, Foggy,” Matt said with a smile.

“Sorry, Matty. You’ve got an ass that won’t quit.”

Matt’s smile slowly faded. “James is just getting over a bad breakup,” he continued. “And I wouldn’t even begin to try to compete with his ex.”

“Someone I know?” Foggy asked, taking his feet down and leaning forward. “Dish!”

“I don’t want to gossip, Foggy.”

“Yes you do, Matt. I’ve met you and you absolutely want to gossip.” 

Matt sighed. He was silent for a few moments. Then: “If I said ‘inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield,’ would that mean anything to you?”

“Oh shit,” Foggy muttered. “I can get why you wouldn’t want to compete with that.”

Both men sat in silence.

Finally, Foggy spoke again: “Ok, but, on the other hand, maybe it means he has a type. Strong, good moral compass, nice ass. I mean, that’s you, Matt. Right? That’s you, too.”

Matt laughed again. “I’m really going to need you to stop talking about my ass, Foggy. You’re going to give me the wrong idea.”

“I just want to see you smile, buddy. You deserve to be happy for once.”

“Thanks,” Matt said. “I’m happy now. I’ve got you, and I’ve got Karen, and we got paid today, and we’re going to help all of these people,” he gestured at the papers in front of him, “and then I’m going to go kick Poindexter’s ass and everything will be right with the world.” 

“Just don’t go after him by yourself, ok Matt?”

Matt nodded. “I won’t. Now let me focus on this work, ok? I promise I’m ready to focus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foggy Nelson is as pure as the driven snow and writing him is like free therapy. That is all I have to say about this chapter. 
> 
> I have had some amazing feedback and conversations with you all over the past few days, and I appreciate it greatly!! Please keep your thoughts coming. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


	13. Matt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this is dumb and I'll regret it later, but I have this. So now you have it too. See you Friday!!
> 
> Thanks and love and kisses and everything to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, FajitaShowboat, and HaniTrash.

“What is she working on, anyway?” Foggy asked.

Matt didn’t answer. 

“Hey Mr. Murdock?”

Someone was standing on the street, five stories below his window, whispering.

“Sorry. I really hope you can hear this. I think you can.”

It was Peter Parker.

“Anyway, I didn’t know what to do. I was supposed to leave you this bag but I didn’t know how to do it with your friends around so I’m just going to leave it here for you. I hope that’s ok.”

Matt heard the  _ thunk  _ of the bag hitting the wall outside his office, right next to the window. It was immediately followed by another sound. Something else hitting the wall. It sounded like liquefied nylon; strong and fibrous. 

_ Webbing. _

“You’ve got an hour or it’s going to fall to the ground so… don’t let that happen, ok? Thanks Mr. Murdock. See you around. Byeeee!”

“Matt?”

“Hmmm? What? Sorry.”

“Is everything ok?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah. Yes, of course,” Matt replied quickly, shaking his head. 

“I thought I heard something outside,” Foggy said, walking to the window and looking out. 

“Oh?” Matt asked after him. “I’m sorry; I didn’t hear anything.” Matt felt Foggy glare at him. 

“Do you know what Karen is working on?” Foggy asked, thankfully changing the topic and sitting back down.

“Yeah. Sure, she…” he paused, listening again. “She’s seeing if Castle made the news. So far he hasn’t.”

“How long have you known?” Foggy asked. “About the two of them, I mean?”

“Oh… well she visited him in the hospital once, before the blip. They’ve been seeing each other on and off since.”

“And you never thought to tell me?” Matt could hear the hurt in his voice.

“It’s better that we don’t know, isn’t it?” Matt asked. “I mean, she never told me. She just suddenly started smelling like once or twice a week.” It was a bad situation, Frank and Karen. They were Frank’s lawyers. Frank was supposed to be dead. Alive he was a fugitive. If he got arrested again, and it came out that they had known he was alive...? Matt was so mad at Karen for putting them in that position, but at the same time he knew he of all people had no right to say anything about it. And now he was working with Frank too, so really he was the worst kind of hypocrite. As usual. 

“That’s the creepiest thing you’ve ever told me, Matt. And that’s saying a lot.”

Matt shrugged, and scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair. Foggy was right. He was creepy. “You asked?” Matt tried again to begin working. He needed Foggy to leave so he could retrieve the bag.

“Alright, so tell me about him. Tell me about Bucky Barnes.”

Matt turned to face his friend. He knew Foggy too well. He knew that he was never going to get the man out of his office unless he gave him the gossip he wanted. So he gave it. “Well, he’s a hundred year old World War II veteran, turned super-soldier, turned assassin, turned Avenger?” 

“Tell me something I don’t already know!”

Matt sighed. He knew that wouldn’t be enough to get Foggy out of his office, but he wondered how much it would actually take. “His arm is vibranium, like you suspected, and it’s new. It’s from Wakanda. Vibranium…” He paused, searching for the words. “When I touched it, it felt alive. Not like skin, of course, but as if the metal itself was alive. It was like… like it moved? The arm has plates that shift and move and slide together and over each other, but that’s not what I mean. The metal itself, where it should have been solid, felt like it moved under my fingertips. It was intense. I...”

“I’m sorry, Matt. But how long did you spend touching this guy’s arm? You know I love you no matter who you love, but I’m thinking I maybe don’t want to hear the end of this particular story?”

“What?” Matt felt anxious. Was he that obvious? That certainly wasn’t fair to James. He didn’t want to be giving the wrong impression of the man. “No, Foggy. No, it’s not like that. He doesn’t… He’s not… James isn’t interested in me like that. Not now. I don’t think he’s looking to be with anyone right now.”

“James?” Foggy asked. 

“Yeah, that’s what he asked me to call him.”

“If he’s asking you to call him by his super-sexy-formal-name, it sounds like maybe he is interested in you. Besides,” Foggy leaned back and kicked his feet up onto Matt’s desk. Matt smiled. He always thought it was funny when his friend fake-flirted with him. Foggy didn’t realize how adorable he really was. “I know you haven’t seen yourself recently, but just let me reassert the fact that everyone is interested in you, Matt Murdock.”

“Oh really?” Matt laughed. “Is that so? Should I tell Marci that she has something to be nervous about?”

“Please. She would just agree. I mean, she hates you but she loves watching you leave. She’s said so herself.”

Matt groaned. “That makes me deeply uncomfortable, Foggy.”

“Sorry, Matty. You’ve got an ass that won’t quit.”

_ This is good,  _ Matt thought.  _ If Foggy is making jokes it means he’s getting more comfortable. Just a little bit more and he’ll be convinced everything is fine and then he’ll leave.  _ “James is just getting over a bad breakup,” Matt continued. “And I wouldn’t even begin to try to compete with his ex.”

“Someone I know?” Foggy asked, taking his feet down and leaning forward. “Dish!”

“I don’t want to gossip, Foggy.” 

“Yes you do, Matt. I’ve met you and you absolutely want to gossip. 

_ No I don’t, Foggy,  _ Matt thought.  _ You want to gossip and I need you to leave.  _ It had been 15 minutes at least. This needed to end! “If I said ‘inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield,’ would that mean anything to you?”

“Oh shit,” Foggy muttered. “I can get why you wouldn’t want to compete with that.”

Both men sat in silence. Matt wondered if he could think “leave!” loud enough that Foggy would hear him.

Finally, Foggy spoke again: “Ok, but, on the other hand, maybe it means he has a type. Strong, good moral compass, nice ass. I mean, that’s you, Matt. Right? That’s you, too.”

Matt laughed again. “I’m really going to need you to stop talking about my ass, Foggy. You’re going to give me the wrong idea.”

“I just want to see you smile, buddy. You deserve to be happy for once.”

“Thanks,” Matt said, and this time he meant it. He was lucky and he knew it. He had good friends. “I’m happy now. I’ve got you, and I’ve got Karen, and we got paid today, and we’re going to help all of these people,” he gestured at the papers in front of him, “and then I’m going to go kick Poindexter’s ass and everything will be right with the world.” 

“Just don’t go after him by yourself, ok Matt?”

Matt nodded. “I won’t. Now let’s get some of this work done, ok?”

Foggy nodded, and Matt said a silent prayer as Foggy stood up and left the room, shutting the office door behind him. 

Matt listened to Foggy walk over and talk to Karen for a moment, then go to his own desk. He gave the man five minutes to settle into his work before rushing to the window. Thankfully, he could tell the bag was still there.  _ Ok, Pete,  _ he thought, _ how am I supposed to get this unstuck now?  _

The long strap of the bag was free from the webbing and blowing in the wind. Matt could hear it striking against the building as it swung back and forth. He grabbed his cane, stuck it through the strap, and pulled. Nothing happened. Matt pulled harder. Still nothing. The bag was stuck. Fortunately, it was close enough to the window that Matt could pull his cane completely inside with the strap still looped around it. He wedged the cane against the inside of the windowsill. When the bag did fall in what he assumed would be about 15 minutes from now, the cane should catch and keep it from falling.

Matt sat down and said a silent Hail-Mary that this would work out as expected. He began running his fingers over the pages in front of him, trying in earnest to work this time. 

About 10 minutes later, he heard the webbing begin to dissolve. 

Matt got up and stood by the window. He listened to the pops and crackles of the webbing as it started to turn to dust. He listened to the bag scraping against the brick of the building as it started to shift, to slide imperceptibly down the side of the building. Matt placed his hand on his cane holding on to it and the bag’s strap. Then, with a woosh of air, the bag fell free and swung down to hang from the cane. 

The cane held fast in the window.

Matt quickly hauled the bag into the building and shut the window. He took the bag over to his desk and sat it down, running his fingers over the expensive feeling material. The smell coming from inside… it couldn’t be. It didn’t make any sense. 

Matt opened the bag. There was a card on top:

 

⠠⠎⠕⠗⠗⠽⠀⠽⠗⠎⠀⠛⠕⠞⠀⠺⠗⠑⠉⠅⠫⠲⠀⠠⠌⠁⠽⠀⠠⠎⠁⠋⠑⠲⠀⠠⠚⠁⠍⠑⠎⠲

 

_ Sorry yours got wrecked. Stay Safe. James. _

Matt ran his hands over the textured material of the suit inside the bag, tracing his fingers over the raised “DD.” He pulled it out and laid it over his desk, feeling every inch, inside and out. As far as he could tell, it was identical. Of course, for all he knew it was hot pink, but he suspected not. He carefully folded it and tucked it back into the bag.

Matt smiled.

“Thank you, James,” he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker is very Gen-Y and I feel like I'm not hip enough to write him.
> 
> Also, James Buchanan Barnes sending Matt Murdock love-notes written in braille is 100000% my aesthetic.
> 
> I have a few extra chapters stockpiled because I'm always afraid I'm not going to write fast enough and I won't have what I need on a Friday. If you want me to release them early, leave me comments saying so. (Yeah, it's like that!)


	14. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, FajitaShowboat, and HaniTrash, and to everyone who left comments last week!! I'm going to try to do three chapters next week, but then I might be back to just Fridays. We will see!

_Idiot._

Bucky watched the black figure swing down from the rooftop. Daredevil flicked his wrist and the thin wire connecting his batons retracted, snapping the two together. He nodded once, then fell into position with his back to Bucky and Frank Castle, the three men creating a small circle, facing outward. 

Surrounding them were about 40 former members of the Hand.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Bucky hissed at him. “You got shot.”

“That was like three days ago,” Frank replied. “Don’t coddle him. You’re fine, ain’t ya, Red?”

“I’m not sure I want you on my side, Frank. But yeah, I’m fine.”

“See,” Frank said with a smile. “Red’s fine. I’d be more worried ‘bout what’s about to happen here. It’s gonna offend his precious sensibilities. We’re not holdin’ back, Red. You ready for that?”

“Interesting thing I’ve learned about the Hand...” Daredevil replied as the forces around them began to run, surging inward to fill the space between them. Daredevil threw one of his batons and Bucky watched it spin forward, striking one of the Hand hard in the head, knocking the black and red masked man down. The force of the baton strike was hard, and Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if the ninja was more than unconscious. “...they’re already dead. Means I don’t need to hold back!” Daredevil shouted, as he rushed forward to retrieve the baton, taking two more ninjas down on his way there.

Bucky paused, briefly, to watch him fight. In this moment, Daredevil was even more fluid than Matt had been in front of the punching bag, matching the style of the Hand, meeting kick for kick. But, unfortunately, they were there for a reason and the Hand was just a distraction. 

“Please try not to shoot him,” Bucky said to Frank. 

“Haven’t shot him on accident yet!” Frank laughed, as he opened fire on the Hand coming at them from the opposite direction of Daredevil.

Bucky smiled and began to carefully pick off ninjas as well. Then he turned to Frank: “Wait! On accident? Does that mean you have shot him on purpose?” he shouted over their gunfire.

“Only the once!” Frank shouted back.

Bucky considered that for a moment as three ninjas reached them. He slammed one in the head with the butt of his gun, then slid a knife out of a pocket at his thigh and into the second ninja’s gut. Frank hit the third in the face with his elbow, twisting him around and wrenching the sword out of his hands and using it to lop the same hands off. Bucky shrugged. “Fair enough!” he replied.

Frank picked up the handless Hand and shook him once. “Where’s your boss?!?” he shouted at the man. 

The ninja pressed his lips, all that could be seen of his face, together stoically.

Bucky ripped off the man’s mask and hood, and stared into the scarred face and empty eyes that looked back into his own. “Where is he?” Bucky asked. “Where’s Poindexter?”

The edges of the ninja’s lips curled up slightly. “You don’t even know what you’re asking,” the man hissed back through set teeth. “There is no Poindexter. The man is gone. But do not worry. Bullseye will find you when he’s ready.”

Frank grunted in disgust and threw the man on the ground. “Intel said he’d be here,” Frank said, gesturing at a warehouse in front of them. “Maybe there’s something to see.” 

Bucky turned back to Daredevil, who had rejoined them. “Thank for the assist,” he said gently. “Now go home.”

“Like hell,” Daredevil replied. “If Poindexter is here, you need me. He’ll shoot you down before you even see him.”

“If Poindexter is here, he might try to kill you again,” Bucky said. 

“Ok,” Daredevil stepped in front of Bucky, stopping him in his tracks. His shoulders were squared, and Bucky could have sworn the man was staring him straight in the eyes, although there really wasn’t room for someone to have seen anything through his mask’s tiny eye-holes. “Maybe he’ll try to kill me again. Then use me as bait.”

“That’s stupid, we’re not going to…”

“No,” Frank interrupted. “No, that's a good idea. If this Bullseye guy is after Red then let’s use that. Draw him out. Plus, if he’s not here, maybe Red can sniff out some clues that we’d miss.”

Daredevil didn’t react, and Bucky wondered whether Matt or Frank was more disturbed by the fact that the two had agreed for the second time that evening. 

“For the record, I think this is idiotic, but lead the way,” Bucky said, gesturing at the building in front of them. As they walked, Bucky snuck a few glances at the man dressed all in black on his right. _Idiot,_ he thought again. _Use you as bait? What kind of self-righteous glutton for punishment thinks they’re so important that they have to take everything on themselves?_

Bucky could think of only one other person.

It was possible he had a type.

Daredevil held out his hands, stopping the other two men from moving forward. “Something’s happening.” His voice sounded tight and strained. He grunted and cocked his head to the side. “I can’t…” he brought a gloved hand up to his temple.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, looking around. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed. The cold, late November air swirled some garbage around the edges of the buildings where they met the concrete between them, but nothing else stirred. The Hand at their feet stayed motionless. 

“Something switched on in these buildings. Some sort of machines. The noise… it’s overpowering.”

Even with his enhanced ears, Bucky couldn’t hear anything.

“Bullseye shot you with a drug to numb your senses,” Frank said. “And now this. He knows, Red. He knows and he’s coming after you.”

Something round and metallic landed on the ground in front of them with a clank.  A grenade.

“GET DOWN!” Bucky shouted as he ran towards it.

“NO!!” DD yelled.

But it was too late. Bucky picked up the grenade and threw it into the air, high above them, where it exploded with an anti-climactic ‘pop.’

Bucky watched in confusion as small, shiny pieces of what appeared to be silver ticker-tape filled the sky. They danced in the air, spiraling as the light wind got caught between the buildings surrounding them, creating a whirlpool like effect. Bucky snatched one out of the air and held it between his fingers. It wasn’t paper at all, but a paper-thin, light weight, flexible metal that bounced back to its original shape after he tried to crumple it between his fingers. _What the fuck is even happening right now._

That’s when Bucky noticed that Daredevil had dropped to one knee, holding his head in his hand. 

_A high-frequency sound, drowning everything else out._

_Metal shards floating in the air._

_Matt was blind._

_But for real this time._

“COVER HIM!” Bucky shouted to Frank.

That’s when the shooting started. Bucky watched the first one hit Frank in the shoulder, denting his vest and knocking the man off his feet. Bucky felt the second tear through his thigh. He only heard the third, the fourth caught him in his vibranium arm, which he raised to block his face in the nick of time. He heard the fifth and the sixth.

Daredevil pointed at a window. “THERE” he shouted!

Bucky scrambled to raise Deloris, but before he could, the window exploded in a ball of fire. The bullets stopped.

Bucky looked up to see Clint on the building top across from the now burning window Matt had pointed at. He saluted them, then disappeared from view. 

“Can you walk?” Bucky screamed at the other two men. 

“Yeah!” Frank nodded, dusting himself off. “I’m fine. Whaddabout you, Red?”

“Never better,” Daredevil replied, but his face said otherwise. “Wish all this would stop,” he gestured at the ticker-tape parade still happening all around them. “You?” he asked Bucky. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine,” Bucky said, limping towards the burning building. He was not fine. He was bleeding. He could feel the bullet lodged in his leg. There wasn’t time to worry about that now. “The good news is, if Poindexter was hiding in there, he probably set it up so there’s only one way in.”

“Means there’s only one way out, too,” Frank confirmed. 

Daredevil stood still, and Bucky could see him trying to focus through the noise and shrapnel that had clearly been introduced into the fight just to stop his senses. He shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s too much going on. Plus the fire… I think he’s in there but I can’t be sure.” Matt grabbed his head in both of his hands. “Fucking hell, just make the sound stop!”

Bucky started walking again. “You sit this one out, ok? We’ll be back for you.”

“NO!” Matt shouted, shooting out his hand and grabbing Bucky’s. The force of it surprised Bucky. He looked down at their gloved hands, fingers intertwined, and allowed himself to stare at it for a moment longer than necessary before pulling away.

“You’re not going in there without me,” Daredevil continued. “Even like this, I can still sense more than you.”

Bucky nodded, and the three men continued walking towards the building. Flames were spreading fast throughout the ancient warehouse. Bucky lifted up his vibraniaum arm and spoke into the communicator embedded in his wrist. “Hawkeye, you hear me?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” came the reply. “On my way to you now.”

“Don’t. Daredevil says there’s something making a noise that only he can hear. You think you can find it and shut it down?”

“Hold on.” The line was silent for a moment. “Yeah, ok, I can hear it. Jesus, that’s terrible. Tell him I’ll find it for him.”

Bucky looked at DD, who nodded.

“Yeah, he heard you.”

There was a pause. “Right. Of course he did. Ok, see you on the other side!”

Heat was already pouring out of the warehouse, rising up and taking the metal ticker-tape away from the burning building with it. It smelled like a bonfire of 100 year old lumber. Under different circumstances, it might have even been pleasant. The three men stepped into the building.

“I’ve got him,” DD said, “two floors up. He’s headed down the stairs right to us. Be careful, though, he’s got -” Matt’s arm shot out and grabbed a metal rod out of the air directly in front of Frank’s face.

“Oh fuck. Thanks, Red.”

“No problem. Now everybody shut up; I’m trying to listen.”

Something else came flying at them - wood this time, and DD deflected it with his arm, stepping forward, protectively, in front of the other two men.

“Like hell,” Bucky muttered, stepping up next to him. Frank stepped up to Bucky’s other side. 

Daredevil turned his face towards Bucky, nodded, and smiled ever so slightly. His face looked less strained. Bucky wondered if Clint had found the source of the sound. “Try to get close to him,” Daredevil said loud enough that both men could hear. “He doesn’t have a gun, so he’ll be throwing whatever he can find. Even a pencil can be deadly. He’s not as good in hand-to-hand combat.”

And then Bullseye was there, and Bucky saw what Matt meant. He watched as a screw hit Frank in the leg, a second quickly following into his arm right next to where his vest ended. The man yelled and dropped to the ground, pushing a metal table to its side and rolling behind it. Gunfire flared out from behind the table. 

“STOP” Bucky heard Daredevil yell from somewhere. “Don’t kill him, Frank. Let me get close; I can stop him.” 

“LIKE! HELL! RED!” The reply came. 

This needed to end. Fast. The room was filling with smoke and it was hard to breathe. It was hot. Bucky didn’t know how Matt could sense anything through the falling embers. All three of them were hurt. Bucky deflected a barrage of god-knew-what with his vibranium arm, ignoring the pieces that made it through and embedded into his forearm. He raised up Deloris, took aim at Bullseye's legs, and fired three times in rapid succession. 

Through the smoke, he saw Bullseye fall.

He fired once more for good measure.

“I got him!” Bucky heard Daredevil call out. “He's still alive. You get Frank. We gotta get out of here; the building’s about to come down!”

Bucky ran to where Frank had been behind the table. The man tried to wave him off, but he was hurt and let Bucky help him to his feet. Frank leaned on Bucky, who helped him out of the building. As soon as they exited the burning building, Bucky saw Clint run forward, grabbing the limp man and pulling him further away. 

“I got him,” Clint shouted. “Get Daredevil out of there!”

Bucky turned around to look back at the building. It was almost fully engulfed in flames now. Matt should have been right behind him. Bucky heard sirens in the distance. The fire trucks would be there soon. 

Still no Matt.

Bucky shielded his eyes and ran back into the building. The smoke was thick, and it was only by luck that he tripped over Matt, crawling across the floor. Bucky scooped him up and carried him out of the building. 

“Poindexter,” Daredevil coughed out. “He’s getting away.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Bucky replied, setting Daredevil down . “Fire trucks are on their way, and the cops will be with them. Frank is hurt; he’s with Clint. Can you walk? We gotta go!”

DD nodded, and coughed again, and the two men took off, away from the fire, as quickly as they could. 

“This way.” Daredevil’s voice was still choked from smoke inhalation, and he gestured Bucky into a dark alley.

They wove through dark alleys and behind apartment buildings, up a fire escape and across several rooftops until Bucky recognized their surroundings. They were on top of Matt’s building. Matt ducked behind the roof access door and paused, listening. He nodded once to Bucky, then opened up a skylight window and gestured for Bucky to slide in. 

Bucky did, blinking his eyes to adjust to the dark room around him. He was in the upper level of Matt’s apartment, which he had never seen before. It was a library, he realized; the walls were lined with shelves of books, titles printed in braille. Daredevil dropped through the skylight behind him, pulling off his mask once he was safely inside. “There’s a lightswitch by the door,” Matt said, and Bucky turned it on, then stared at Matt. His face was streaked with soot and his right arm was hanging at an awkward angle to his side, but he seemed mostly ok. Bucky was surprised at the intensity of the relief that flooded through his body. 

“You’re bleeding,” Matt said with another cough. “Your leg. It’s bad.”

“I heal fast,” Bucky replied, stepping towards Matt, looking him over. The suit seemed to have done its job. “What about you?” he asked.

“Scrapes,” Matt replied. “Bruises. I breathed in a lot of smoke. I can’t smell anything, but it’ll clear. But you,” Matt stepped in even closer. The two men were now only inches apart. “You’ve got a bullet in your leg. We gotta get that out. I can do it, if you want.”  
  
Bucky thought about it for a moment. He didn’t want his body to heal around the bullet. That always made things worse. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

“I’ve got supplies downstairs. Come on.”

The two men walked down the stairs into the main floor of Matt’s apartment. Neon light streamed in through the large picture window. Bucky watched Matt, noticing again the way his arm hung limply at his side. “Your shoulder is dislocated,” he finally said, as Matt pulled the first aid kit out of the bathroom.  

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Bucky replied. “I’m not letting you dig a bullet out of me like that. Your fingers are all twitchy. Come on. Get the suit off. I’ll pop your shoulder back in and then you can stitch me up.” 

“Fine.” Matt disappeared into his bedroom, and when he came back out a few minutes later, he was shirtless and wearing soft black sweatpants. Bucky stared at him. He had a huge red welt already darkening into a purple bruise on his right rib, and a few smaller scrapes and welts scattered across his chest and face, but otherwise he looked ok. _Well, better than ok,_ Bucky thought. _God the man was beautiful._ His vacant eyes blinked at Bucky from behind long, dark lashes. His dark hair was mussed, his sharp jawline blanketed by a five-o’clock-shadow that Bucky could just imagine scraping roughly across his own skin. He could tell Matt was watching him, or whatever the Matt equivalent of that might be, and he knew his heart was pounding. Bucky didn’t care. He stepped closer to Matt running his fingers over one of the scars above Matt’s pec. 

“How did these happen?” Bucky asked.

“A man named Nobu.” Matt’s voice caught in his throat. Bucky thought it could have been from the smoke, but he hoped not. “He used to control the Hand - or at least those of them who attacked us tonight.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died. The man who trained me cut his head off.”

"Good," Bucky said absentmindedly, tracing his hand once more across the scars. Then he shook his head and moved his hands to Matt's arm. This wasn’t what he was here for. It wasn’t right. He needed to focus. He had gotten Matt hurt tonight. That was on him. Matt was just a regular guy in a suit. Bucky needed to put an end to it. “Ok,” he said. “I’m going to count to three, and then I’ll pop the shoulder back in. One,” Bucky twisted Matt’s arm, forcing it back into the socket.

Matt grunted and coughed. “I knew you were going to do that,” he said after a moment.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, rubbing his shoulder and then moving to open the first aid kit. “I can tell when people are lying. Your heartbeat changed for just a moment.”

“Huh,” Bucky considered this new information for a moment. “That sounds like cheating. Must be helpful in the courtroom.”

Matt smiled wryly. “Yeah. Just another good reason why I should be careful with how many people know Daredevil’s secret. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to his couch. Then, as an afterthought, “you’re going to have to take your pants off.”

Bucky paused for a moment, and Matt sensed his hesitation.

“It doesn’t actually matter to me, you know. I ‘see’ your heat signature, and the movement of the blood through your veins and muscles moving. Whether someone is clothed or not, I perceive them basically the same way.”

Bucky stared at him. “So what you’re saying is everyone always looks naked to you?”

Matt laughed. “I mean, I guess you could put it that way.”

“You are a creepy dude, Matt Murdock,” Bucky said, as he began stripping down to his boxers.

“Foggy likes to remind me of that all the time.”

Bucky sat on the couch and Matt knelt on the floor in front of him, placing his hand on Bucky’s leg. _Shit,_ Bucky thought, all the levity from the moment before lost in a second. Matt wasn’t an idiot. He had to know what he was doing in this moment, didn’t he? How he looked, kneeling between Bucky’s legs? 

Matt sat still for a moment, hand resting on Bucky’s thigh, feeling the wound. Then he fluttered his eyes up at Bucky. “It’s not bad,” he said. “No real damage. The bone is cracked, but it hasn’t shifted at all. I can already hear it starting to heal. I’m going to use a tweezers to pull the bullet out. Do you want something? For the pain?”

Bucky shook his head. “I can take a lot of pain,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry that that’s something you know,” Matt said quietly. Then he used a long tweezers to carefully, delicately even, remove the bullet from Bucky’s leg. Finally, he stitched the wound closed with perfectly spaced stitches. When he was done, he didn’t move. He just sat there, silently, between Bucky’s legs, eyes cast down. 

Bucky couldn’t help himself. He reached out his right hand and ran his fingers through Matt’s hair. He felt Matt tremble under his touch. The man leaned in towards him, ever so slightly. Bucky desperately wanted to wrap his hand around the back of Matt’s head and pull him in. He wanted to feel that five-o’clock-shadow on his inner thighs. He wanted to know if Matt’s mouth was as sensitive as his fingers were.

Bucky wanted to do all those things and more, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he let his hand drop to Matt’s shoulder and applied the smallest amount of pressure. He didn’t want to push Matt off of him; but he wasn’t going to let this continue either. 

Matt got the message. He leaned back, then stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Bucky shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. I just… That’s not what I want. Not right now, anyway.” He pulled his pants back on and wordlessly walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint can hear the sound after he cranks his hearing aid up to 11. Also, canonically, a ticker-tape parade is Matt Murdock's biggest weakness and I think that's hilarious. 
> 
> Also, in the comics, Bullseye's main goal is just torturing Daredevil, so if you're wondering what his endgame is here, that's it. 
> 
> Did you know that feedback is actually more important to a writer's survival than food? I'm pretty sure that's science! Anyway I love all of your comments every week, so please keep them coming <3


	15. Matt

Matt scanned the rooftop, listening for anyone who might see them. It was empty. Nobody was in the stairwell headed up to the roof, either. He nodded once to Bucky, then opened up a skylight window and gestured to Bucky. 

Bucky climbed through the open window, and Matt dropped down behind him. “There’s a lightswitch by the door,” Matt said. He waited a moment, and then heard Bucky flip the switch. Matt listened to the uneven gait of Bucky’s steps. The wound on Bucky’s leg must be worse than Matt thought, if it was making him limp so heavily. The soot and smoke from the fire had filled his nose, so his sense of smell and taste was all off, but he could hear the bullet scraping against Bucky’s bone. He could feel the warmth of the blood running down Bucky’s leg. “You’re bleeding.” He coughed. “Your leg. It’s bad.”

“I heal fast,” Bucky replied. Matt felt Bucky’s body heat as the man stepped towards him. He could feel the air around Bucky’s vibranium arm buzzing. “What about you?” Bucky asked.

“Scrapes. Bruises,” Matt replied. “I breathed in a lot of smoke. I can’t smell anything, but it’ll clear. But you,” he stepped in even closer. Matt had lied. He could smell Bucky, standing this close to him. He smelled like smoke from the fire, they both did, but underneath that he smelled like the chicken soup he had eaten for dinner - Matt thought it was homemade. He smelled like beeswax lip balm, and old leather, and lavender soap. Matt spoke quietly. “You’ve got a bullet in your leg. We gotta get that out. I can do it, if you want.”   
  
Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

“I’ve got supplies downstairs. Come on.” Matt led Bucky down the stairs into the main floor of his apartment. He tried not to cradle his arm. He could feel the shoulder was dislocated, but he didn’t need Bucky to know that. He could fix it himself later. Bucky needed his attention now. 

“Your shoulder is dislocated.” 

_ Fuck,  _ Matt thought, as he pulled the first aid kit out of the bathroom.  _ Must be more obvious than I thought.  _ “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I’m not letting you dig a bullet out of me like that.” Bucky wasn’t loud, but Matt could tell he was serious. “Your fingers are all twitchy. Come on. Get the suit off. I’ll pop your shoulder back in and then you can stitch me up.” 

“Fine.” 

Matt stepped into his bedroom, trying to hide his panic from Bucky. If Bucky was going to adjust his shoulder, that meant that Bucky was going to touch him again with his own vibranium arm and Matt wasn’t sure he could take it. Not tonight. Not after a fight when he was all worked up already anyway. Not when Bucky was there smelling like smoke and leather and lavender, with heat radiating off of him, and Matt already wanting to kiss him into oblivion. Matt quickly stripped off the Daredevil suit and threw on a pair of sweatpants. They were both the thickest and loosest he owned. He considered, momentarily, jerking off right then and there just to relieve the stress, but he knew that was a terrible idea. He’d be gone too long, and Bucky had enhanced hearing too. With his luck, Bucky would catch him and then there’d certainly be no chance for him. Not that he thought there was anyway. 

Matt stepped back out of his bedroom. He could feel Bucky staring at him. He could hear Bucky’s heart pounding. 

Maybe he did have a chance after all.

Was it too much to hope?

Bucky stepped closer to Matt, and Matt willed himself with all his might not to shake as Bucky ran his fingers over one of the scars above Matt’s pec. 

“How did these happen?” Bucky asked.

“A man named Nobu.” Matt’s voice caught in his throat. He swallowed hard and tried to keep it steady. “He used to control the Hand - or at least those of them who attacked us tonight.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died. The man who trained me cut his head off.”

Bucky nodded, tracing his hand across Matt’s skin to his arm. The extra contact wasn’t necessary. Matt wanted to lean into it, but he didn’t. “Ok,” Bucky said. “I’m going to count to three,” Matt heard Bucky’s heart skip a beat, “and then I’ll pop the shoulder back in. One,” Matt tried not to fight it as Bucky twisted his arm, forcing it back into the socket.

Matt grunted and coughed. “I knew you were going to do that,” he said after a moment.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, rubbing his shoulder and then moving to open the first aid kit. “I can tell when people are lying. Your heartbeat changed for just a moment.”

“Huh,” Bucky considered this new information for a moment. “That sounds like cheating. Must be helpful in the courtroom.”

Matt smiled despite himself. He knew it wasn’t funny. He knew it was wrong. “Yeah. Just another good reason why I should be careful with how many people know Daredevil’s secret. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to his couch. Then, as an afterthought: “You’re going to have to take your pants off.”

Matt felt Bucky hesitate, heard his heartbeat climb slightly. The smoke was starting to clear from his sinuses, and he could smell Bucky’s arm, metallic, but also earthy and clean. “It doesn’t actually matter to me, you know,” he heard himself saying, his mind still on the vibranium arm. “I ‘see’ your heat signature, and the movement of the blood through your veins and muscles moving. Whether someone is clothed or not, I perceive them basically the same way.”

“So what you’re saying is everyone always looks naked to you?”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh. That was the opposite of what he’d been trying to say, but Bucky wasn’t wrong. “I mean, I guess you could put it that way.”

“You are a creepy dude, Matt Murdock,” Bucky said, as he began stripping down to his boxers.

“Foggy likes to remind me of that all the time.”

Bucky sat on the couch and Matt knelt on the floor in front of him, placing his hand on Bucky’s leg. He sat as still as possible, listening to the bullet in Bucky’s leg. It was a clean shot. The bullet was pressed against the bone, which had cracked, but there didn’t seem to be any more damage than that. Matt focused even deeper.  _ Damn.  _ He could hear Bucky’s bones starting to knit back together. That was something new. He needed to get that bullet out of there fast. The muscle and tissue around the bullet were already starting to rebuild themselves.

Suddenly, Matt realized how he must look, sitting between Bucky’s legs. He had been so focused on the wound, he hadn’t even stopped to think about it. But now that it had occurred to him… Matt felt his cock twitch in his pants and he shifted, willing his body to stay under his control. Now was not the time for distraction. He brought his attention to Bucky’s face. “It’s not bad,” he said. “No real damage. The bone is cracked, but it hasn’t shifted at all. I can already hear it starting to heal. I’m going to use a tweezers to pull the bullet out. Do you want something? For the pain?”

“I can take a lot of pain. I’ll be fine.”

_ Of course you can. I’m such an idiot.  _ “I’m sorry that that’s something you know,” Matt said quietly. He took the tweezers out of the bag. Matt focused.  _ Don’t listen to the bullet. Listen to everything else. Listen to the muscles and the veins and the nerves. Listen to them, and stay far away from them.  _ He felt the tweezers touch the bullet, and he carefully pulled it out, listening again on the way out. Finally, Matt carefully stitched the wound closed.    
  
Matt knew he was done. He knew it was time to get up, to walk away, to end this. Bucky was warm. The warmth of his legs surrounded Matt on both sides. The warmth of his body towered up in front of Matt. Bucky’s heartbeat was slow and steady. Matt let it fill his ears. Matt let the smell of Bucky wash over him. He hoped he’d still be able to smell it on his couch tomorrow. He didn’t know how to stand up. He didn’t know how to leave this place. It was quiet and safe and perfect. Just Bucky. There was just Bucky and him and nothing else.

And then Bucky began to move, and Matt felt himself holding his breath. Bucky reached out his right hand and ran his fingers through Matt’s hair, and this time Matt couldn’t keep himself from trembling. It was too much. Too perfect. Bucky had him, and he had never wanted anything more. He felt himself leaning forwards. 

And then Bucky let go. Instead of pulling Matt forward, he dropped his hand to Matt’s shoulder and pushed Matt back. It was gentle, but it was clear.

Matt stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Bucky shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. I just… That’s not what I want. Not right now, anyway.” He pulled his pants back on and wordlessly walked out the door. Matt didn’t speak. He let him go. 

Matt stood still for a moment, then walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He opened it, then walked over and sat down on his couch. He took a drink, then sat for a moment, then smiled.

Bucky had been lying. When he had said that wasn’t what he wanted, he had lied. And Matt knew it.

And Bucky knew he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to make you live through that again, but I hope it ended a little better this time? These two!! They need to get their collective acts together!!
> 
> We are actually nearing the end of this tale. My best guess is five more full chapters, and then a post-credit scene. ***WARNING*** The post credit scene will have major spoilers for Spider-Man: Far From Home. If you haven't seen it already, what are you waiting for?!?! I mean, you need to make your own life choices, but it's pretty fantastic and Jake Gyllenhaal is a delight. 
> 
> Thanks as always to my betas and sounding boards and everyone talking to me in the comments! Its amazing and I love it and I love all of you!!! <3 <3 <3


	16. Frank

_ Your Titan is ready. _

Frank read the words on his screen and his eyes flashed with demented glee. He jammed his thumb on the button to call his killer mech down from the heavens. “Standby for Titanfall,” a female voice intoned, and Frank echoed her, at the top of his lungs, adding the word “Motherfucker!” to the end. He listened for a response, but his profanity was met only with silence from Clint, who was in the bedroom, and an annoyed grunt from Bucky, who was standing behind where Frank was sitting on the couch. 

“Watch this, Barnes,” Frank said, as his character in the video game climbed up into a massive robot and then launched a barrage of ammunition into a building. After several seconds of noise and explosions, the mech’s guns smoked from the aftereffects of the fusillade. Frank released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in.

Nothing happened on the screen. As far as he could tell, he somehow hadn’t killed Clint’s character with his full-on assault of bullets and rockets. Frank looked over to Bucky, who yawned.  _ Fucker wouldn’t know excitement if it bit him in the face.   _

“Clint, where the fuck…? How did you survive that?” Frank yelled. Still no response. It was a little less fun to play this way, with one person on the living room TV and one in the bedroom, but Clint had insisted on it.  _ That jackass said I would cheat by looking at his screen.  Like I would even need to. _

Frank maneuvered his Titan around the building in the game, and was about to leave to search the rest of the map when he saw a brief glimpse of color in one of the doorways. Without hesitation he opened fire again, draining his mech’s weapons. The smoke cleared and all was still. “Shit,” he said, as he pressed the button to exit his giant Titan.

His in-game character dropped down from the mech and walked slowly toward the building. The avatar peeked in the doorway and he saw some movement in the far corner of the room. Without hesitation, Frank hurled a grenade in the direction of the disturbance. A few seconds later the grenade exploded, but Frank found himself again without the satisfaction of a kill.  

“Fucker,” he muttered, and moved his character further into the room. He saw the source of the movement: a destroyed spider-drone.  

Frank’s eyes widened in alarm. Before he could retreat back to his mech and escape what he now realized was a trap, Frank saw something move in his peripheral vision - not in the game, but in the apartment. He turned and saw Clint standing in the doorway to the bedroom, holding his Xbox controller in one hand.

“Hey,” is all Clint said and, without looking, he pulled the trigger on his controller.

There was barely enough time for Frank to look back at the screen, wide-eyed, before his character’s head exploded.

“The fuck?!?” Frank yelled. The replay camera in the game zoomed out to show Clint’s character standing half a mile away on top of a building, sniper rifle aimed perfectly at the spot where Frank’s character’s head had previously been. 

“You suck.” Frank spat, and Clint smiled a big shit-eating grin.  

“Can we watch Discovery now?” Bucky asked, clearly bored.

“YAAAASSSS!!!” Clint cheered, throwing his controller onto the bed behind him and running to jump on the couch. He curled up into a corner and pulled a heavy blanket around himself.

Frank groaned. “Sure, yeah, fuck it, I don’t care. It’s no fun playing with this sniping asshole anyway.”

“Awww… Poor baby,” Clint shot back. “You know you love it!” He lifted up the corner of the blanket, and Frank glared at him, but tucked himself in anyway.

“I hate this show,” Frank complained. “I don’t understand why you two like it so much.”

“Because it’s amazing?” Bucky replied.

“Because it’s new Star Trek after like 20 years?” Clint said at the same time. “Or, I mean it was. It’s not some people’s fault that they missed it the first time through.” Bucky had taken a seat on the floor, leaning his back against where Clint’s legs would have been if they weren’t tucked underneath him. Clint patted him gently on the head. “What’s your excuse?” Clint asked Frank.

“I’m not a nerd?” Frank replied. “Besides, this show doesn’t make any sense. It’s supposed to be set before The Original Series, but they have holographic communicators, and don’t even get me started on the spore drive. Why wouldn’t Starfleet be using something like that? Plus, that’s not what Klingons look like. Also, it’s super clear that Lorca’s evil.”

Clint pressed his lips together tightly. “Just watch, dude. Just watch.” 

“Captain Lorca’s not evil,” Bucky added from the floor. “Why would you even say that?”

“Just look at him. He’s clearly evil.”

“Is he, though?” Clint asked with a mischievous smile. “Or do you just have evil transference from that movie about the magic kids?”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said grabbing the remote from Clint and pausing the show. “Did you just call Harry Potter ‘That Movie About the Magic Kids?’ Because we’re going to need to talk about that.”

“Wait, is he in those movies?” Bucky asked, mostly to himself.

“That’s Jason Isaacs. He played Lucius Malfoy.”

Bucky turned to stare at Frank in disbelief. “No way! Start it up again. I need to look at him.”

“Just wait,” Frank said, pressing play. “He’s going to be evil.”

Clint chuckled.

As Frank sat watching the show which, ok yeah, maybe wasn’t the worst thing ever, he couldn’t help but think about the two men he was sitting with, and how lucky he was to have found them. When he had flagged them up to that rooftop almost four months prior, it could have gone a lot differently. In that moment, his best case scenario was that they would help him on one job. More realistically, he’d expected to have them try and arrest him. And yet here he was, sharing an apartment in Bed Stuy with two Avengers. It wasn’t family, but it was close. As close as he had been with Billy and Jesus Fuck if that thought didn’t make him nervous. But Bucky and Clint, they got it. They were damaged too. It was ok. It felt ok. 

The show ended. Frank looked out the window. It was cold and snowing lightly. The sun was already starting to go down. “Snow supposed to stick around?” he asked.

Clint pulled out his phone and checked the weather. “Looks like it. Maybe we’ll have a white Christmas.”

“Maybe. Means no Red tonight, though,” Frank said to Bucky. “Maybe you should take a break too. Take Matt out for a night on the town. Snow messes with him something fierce. I’d bet he’d even let you lead him around by the arm.”

Bucky threw a couch cushion at Franks head. “It’s not like that, asshole.”

“Why not?” Clint asked. He had stood up and was rummaging through the fridge looking for anything decent to eat. He finally seemed to give up, and pulled out a beer instead. “I mean, you’re over at his place at least two or three times a week. The two of you are clumsy, but I’m sure you’re doing more than giving each other stitches.”

Frank thought he saw Bucky blush, just a little. 

“We listen to podcasts,” Bucky replied. “Not that it’s any of your business. And music. He has good taste in music. Your generation’s TV is great, but your music is shit.”

“Mmmhmmm?” Clint asked suggestively, leaning across the kitchen counter. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Well if that’s true, it’s stupid. You’re stupid,” Clint said, and he walked over and sat across from Bucky, handing him a beer. “You clearly like this guy, Bucky. It’s been over four months since Steve left. And you gotta remember that he’s the one who left. I know that sucks to hear and I hate to say it. I hate that it happened, and not just for your sake. But it’s true. We’re all moving on. You don’t owe him anything and you need to move on too. You deserve happiness just as much as he does.”

Bucky sat, silently. He took a drink of his beer.

“Clint’s right,” Frank said, and he resisted making a crack about Clint never being right. “You gotta move on. It’s time.”

“Yeah, that’s real swell coming from you, Frank,”

Frank grabbed Bucky’s beer and took a swig. He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe I’ll move on, too. Whadaya think about that?”

Bucky laughed once, coldly, taking back his beer. “That seems like a safe bet to take, Frank. I’ll move on as soon as you do.”

Frank grunted. He stood up. 

“Ah, don’t be mad, Frank.”

He walked into his bedroom.

“Frank! Frank, come back,” Bucky called after him. “Don’t be sore, Frank. I was just messin’ around.”

Frank came back into the room, phone in hand.

Bucky and Clint stared at him, wide eyed. 

Frank narrowed his eyes at them, thinking. Was he really going to do this? Now? Was it just to spite Bucky? He knew it wasn’t. He looked down and quickly punched the number into his phone. He held it up to his ear.  _ Aww hell. Here we go.  _

The phone rang.

_ Hello?  _

Karen’s voice sounded scared. 

“Hey, Karen. It’s Frank.”

_ I know, Frank. Why are you calling me? Is everything ok? Are you hurt? _

“No, I’m not… it’s nothing like that.”

_ Then what? You’re scaring me. _

_ Had he really never called her before, just to talk? That didn’t seem right. _ “I, um.. It’s nothing, ma’am. I’m sorry to have bothered…” Frank looked up and saw Bucky staring at him, arms crossed across his chest. Frank bit his lip. “I wanted to see if you wanted to go out for dinner with me,” he said quickly. He wasn’t scared. He was the goddamned Punisher. He certainly wasn’t scared of asking Karen Page out on a date. He was just thankful that Red wasn’t here right now, listening to his heartbeat.

He suddenly realized that the line had been quiet for too long.

“Karen? Karen, you still there?”

_ I’m here, Frank. _

Frank looked up at the other two men at the room. Clint was now staring at him intently as well. 

_ Yeah.  _ It was little more than a whisper.  _ Yeah, ok.  _

“Yeah?”

_ Yeah. I mean… I’d like that. _

“Day after tomorrow?”

_ Day after tomorrow is Christmas. I’ve got plans. Don’t you…  _ she trailed off, probably realizing the likelihood that he didn’t.

“Yeah, no I do. I just forgot. Lost track of what day it was. Day after that, then?”

Karen was quiet for another moment. Then,  _ Ok. That sounds good. _

“Ok. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

_ Yeah. Ok, Frank. I’ll see you then. _

And the line went dead.

Frank put his phone in his back pocket. 

“You’re up, Barnes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hi. I'm a big nerd and this is my big nerd chapter, ok? 
> 
> In addition to my normal thank yous to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, FajitaShowboat, and HaniTrash, I would like to give an extra special thanks to J, who is not on AO3 to see this, and who basically wrote the video game scene for me. I knew I wanted it to happen, but the last video game I played was Duck Hunt and yes I did have to blow on the cartridge to make it work, and no it wasn't ironic, and yes I am worrying about how many people reading this might be too young to even understand that reference. So... yeah. 
> 
> Yes, the boys are watching Star Trek Discovery, and yes I think they would, and yes you should be too because it's awesome! 
> 
> The game they are playing is Titanfall 2.
> 
> Leave me any comments or thoughts that you have!!
> 
> **PS: We will be back to our regularly scheduled programming in the next chapter. I just really wanted to write these three hanging out and being bros because I adore them **


	17. Bucky and Matt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to save this until Friday, but HaniTrash asked very nicely so what choice did I have?
> 
> Content warning: Somebody gets shot and there's a lot of blood. 
> 
> Thanks and love and everything, as always, go to Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat

It was cold.

If you asked him about it, Bucky would say that he hated winter. He would say that he had always hated winter. Even before winter was a part of who he was, he had hated it. Long, long ago, before wars and dying and freezing and more wars, he had hated winter for what it did to his tiny, perfect Stevie who couldn’t fight off a cold any more than he could abide a bully. And he did. More or less, he hated winter.

But the sentiment wasn’t entirely true. 

Yes, the cold made Steve sick. But it also meant the two of them snuggled up under thick blankets, using each other to stay warm. The winter meant freezing mornings walking home, wet, with chunks of ice hanging from his clothes after working on the docks, but it also meant thick, soft sweaters and steaming bowls of soup. It meant snowball fights with his sisters and building snowmen until he was way too old to be building a snowman. During the war, the snow mean frozen socks and cold fingers and bodies burning more calories - which he already didn’t get enough of - trying to stay warm, but it also meant no mud and a fresh coat of white burying bloody battlefields. It meant a crisp crunch underfoot, and steam rising from Captain America’s breath, and ice crystals sparkling in his golden hair. For the Winter Soldier, snow meant longer, harsher missions with nowhere to rest, but it also meant handlers staying further behind, at bases where they could be warm. It meant more time to himself; more time to discover himself and to remember who he had been.

And now, Bucky hoped, the cold meant a quiet walk through Central Park with a blind man’s hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. If Frank could do it, then damn it, so could he. 

Bucky was thinking about it, imagining how it would feel, both of them out in the swirling snow. Matt would wear the soft, wool coat that Bucky had bought him (“I can’t take this, James. It’s too much.” “You’re winter coat is shit, Matt. How are you going to protect Hell’s Kitchen if you catch your death of cold? I got the money. Let me do this for you, please?”), and the red scarf that matched his glasses. Bucky could picture snowflakes dotting Matt’s hair and sticking to his long, dark eyelashes. Maybe he would rent one of those horse-drawn carriages, tuck Matt into the blankets, and spend an hour listening to Matt describe what the park sounded like at night. Maybe they could go ice skating. Bucky was a decent ice skater. He wondered if Matt had ever gone ice skating before. He’d grown up in an orphanage, when he wasn’t being trained to be a weapon, so Bucky suspected that he hadn’t. Afterwards, maybe they’d go to that dive bar where they’d met. Bucky hadn’t been back since. He owed the bartender an apology.

It was his own fault. He knew better. Bucky knew he shouldn’t bother dreaming about something so happy. So normal.

He heard the shot a second before he felt it. It gave him time to move, just a little. It was enough to save him. The bullet went through his shoulder, and not his heart. 

He went down anyway, rolling behind a dumpster, looking for whatever protection he could find. He pressed his hand into his chest. He was losing a lot of blood, and quickly. He could feel himself fading. 

A pool of red was gathering beneath him, covering the snow.

“Matt,” he called out as loudly as he could. It wasn’t loud enough. He wasn’t close enough. “Matt!” he called again, for good measure. 

Even if he had been loud enough, there was no way Matt could get there in time. Bucky knew he needed to stop the bleeding.

Then everything went black.

***

Matt Murdock was sitting in his office. It was late, but Matt didn’t mind. It was snowing, so there was no patrol for him that night, and anyway he was far more interested in what Peter was telling him than in getting into a fight right now. 

They had hired Peter a week after he came into the office, at Karen’s insistence. Matt wasn’t super keen on the idea. He’d told Peter so himself. His friends had been lied to enough, he had said. They didn’t need another masked hero coming into their life. (Peter was a hero - Matt would never call himself that.) But Karen wouldn’t let it go and Matt liked Peter. The kid was clearly a hard worker, and he and his aunt needed the money, and honestly Matt was happy to be able to keep an eye on him. He never took Peter out patrolling, but Matt did give him a few lessons on how to fade into the shadows, and they had started going to Fogwells a few times a week. The kid was strong, but nobody had ever shown him how to throw a proper punch. After school, Peter would sometimes deliver papers for them. Foggy had been so excited to go to his apartment and tell Marci that they had their own, personal, private courier. This time, while out on an errand for Karen, Peter had happened by a construction site owned by a company that Nelson & Murdock was currently in litigation with. The kid had a good eye, and he noticed what turned out to be some pretty severe OSHA violations. The pictures Peter had taken, according to Foggy, were going to be invaluable in building their case for the workers who had hired them after being hurt onsite. 

“How did you get these, anyway?” Foggy asked. “The angle is amazing. Where were you when you took this?”

“Oh, well… I… I’ve never been afraid of heights” 

“Obviously not!” Foggy exclaimed, and Matt said a quick prayer that Foggy would be too excited to notice that Pete hadn’t really answered the question. 

_ It was a poor choice,  _ Matt thought.  _ He was just trying to help, and he did help, but this is the kind of thing that’s going to get the kid caught.  _

And honestly, if Spider-Man got caught working for them, that would be almost as bad as Matt getting found out. Not quite as bad, but almost. It would certainly mean investigation into Nelson & Murdock and he didn’t need…

_ Matt. _

He heard the word, far away, but louder than anything else around him. 

_ Matt! _

Followed by a blood curdling scream. 

Bucky. And he was hurt. Bad.

“Pete,” he interrupted. “I gotta get you home. I forgot. May called.”

“When?” Pete and Karen asked in unison.

“Before. I’m sorry. She told me to get you home early tonight. Said that you had that big test tomorrow and that you weren’t studying for it the way you should be. I totally forgot. It was my mistake. I’ll go with you. Explain the situation. Make sure you don’t get in any trouble.”

“Yes, of course Mr. Murdock. Thank you,” Pete said, still obviously very confused. 

Matt listened to Karen and Foggy’s heartbeats as he rushed out the door. Foggy was normal. Karen wasn’t buying it though.  _ Fuck. _

Matt shut the door and rushed Peter up the stairs to the roof. “You got a change of clothes, kid?” he asked

“What?” Peter asked. Then, as realization hit him: “Oh. Shit! Yeah, what’s up? What’s happening?”

“Bucky’s hurt. Under attack. I have a spare suit on the roof. What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Pete said. “I’m good. I’m ready.”

Minutes later, if someone would have looked up, they would have seen two men jumping and swinging across the rooftops of Hell's Kitchen.  

“Goddamned snow!” Daredevil shouted, as they swung across 9th Ave. “It’s throwing off my senses!” But still, he could feel Bucky’s arm if he focused hard enough. “Keep your eyes open for anyone ok? If this is a trap and his attackers are still there, I’m not sure I’ll catch them in time.”

“You got it, Mr. Daredevil!” Spider-Man shouted back.

“Just Daredevil, ok kid? We’re a team now.” Daredevil landed gently on the ground. Bucky was close. DD prayed that the snow was masking Bucky’s heat. He couldn’t bring himself to think about what it would mean if Bucky was cold.

“You drop the ‘kid’ and you’ve got yourself a deal... “ Spider-Man trailed off. “Oh, shit. Shit! Over here!” He ran towards a dumpster.

Daredevil followed. Bucky was there. He was unconscious, but there. Matt pulled out his phone. “Call Claire!” he shouted. 

The phone rang twice.

_ Hey? _ Claire’s voice was tentative. Not scared. Never scared. But worried.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair. I need your help.”

_ Where are you? _ Not tentative anymore. 

“39th and 7th. How quick can you be?”

_ You’re lucky. I’m in the area. Hold on. I’ll be right there. _

Matt sat on the ground next to Bucky, stroking the man’s hair. There was a wound in his chest, the bullet had gone straight through, but it didn’t appear to be bleeding anymore. Matt didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Bucky was breathing, but it was shallow. His heart sounded weak. He had lost a lot of blood. “How did you see him? How did you find him so fast.”

Spider-Man swallowed hard. His voice was faint. “The ground is red. It’s covered in blood.”

***

_ Bucky Barnes was dreaming. _

_ He was 17. It was snowing and he was walking home from work. It was slippery and he kept falling. He tried to hurry, but his legs slid out from beneath him, and he tumbled to the ground. He had to get home. He had promised Steve that he would take him for a walk in the snow. But he couldn’t get to Brooklyn. Every time he tried to walk in the right direction, he would slip and fall and when he stood up he would be in Hell’s Kitchen. He stood again. His legs wobbled underneath him. His shoulder throbbed. When had he hurt his shoulder? Maybe when he fell? He looked up and Stevie was there, but it wasn’t him. He was big. He was tall, and broad chested, and tan, with shoulders that seemed to fill the entire street. Bucky reached out to him, but the hand that reached wasn’t his own. It was some sort of mechanical monster hand and it stretched across the road, stabbing the giant Steve through the chest. Steve screamed a wordless scream and Bucky pulled the hand back, staring down at it. It was a normal hand. He looked up. Steve was gone, and a man with dark hair and vacant eyes was standing in his place, crying.  _

_ He heard a woman speak. Her voice quiet, yet booming through the empty streets. “Wound’s been cauterized,” he heard her say. He didn’t understand. _

_ The scene shifted.  _

_ Bucky was at war. He was marching through the snow with the 107th. Something was wrong. He knew it. Something bad was about to happen. An ambush. They shouldn’t be here. They were being followed. He turned to the man on his left and tried to speak. No words came out. He tried the man on his right. Nothing. He couldn’t make any noise. Couldn’t stop his legs from marching towards the horrors he knew were right in front of them. He felt like he was going to vomit. Pain shot through his entire body. He felt hands grabbing him and looked down to see black gloves reaching around him from behind. Trying to pull him out of danger? No! They were lifting him, carrying him closer to the Hydra base. Closer to Zola. Closer to Schmitt. He tried to break free but couldn’t move. He tried to see who was carrying him, but his eyes wouldn’t focus and he could only make out a black mask with what looked like horns coming out of the top. _

_ The voice came again. “Need to get him somewhere with the proper supplies.” _

_ Bucky started to panic. He knew how this ended. They were going to take him. Take his arm. Make him a monster. He couldn’t. He felt himself shaking. The arms around him held him tighter.  _

_ The scene shifted. _

_ Bucky was standing on a rooftop, looking into an apartment. He knew the man who lived there. He shouldn’t know the man who lived there. The man who lived there wasn’t home. The man who lived there was his mission. Another man was there. He had shot the man who was there. The man who was there was dying. The man who was there wouldn’t die. The man he knew but shouldn’t know would be arriving soon, and he would try to kill that man. He didn’t think he wanted to kill the man he knew but shouldn’t know, but a voice in his head told him he should do it anyway. That the man he knew but shouldn’t know was going to hurt him in the long run. Leave him cold and broken and alone. The man he knew but shouldn’t know walked into the apartment. From across the street, Bucky fired a single shot, straight into his chest. The man went down. Bucky felt himself falling. Bucky was standing alone in the apartment with the dead man lying on the ground. Music was playing. He looked at the body on the floor. He flipped it over with his foot and stared down into his own eyes, lifeless, a pool of blood forming dark and deep and red beneath him. He was back on the roof across the street. His own body still lay at his feet. It started snowing. The snow was deep red. It burned his skin when it touched him. _

_ A different voice. Foreign. Familiar. _

_ “Stay. We will need all the help we can get.” _

***

“Did you do this?” Claire asked. It took a moment for Matt to realize she was taking to him. 

“Do what?” He asked. 

“Here.” She took his hand and pulled his glove off, placing his fingers onto Bucky’s chest. Matt couldn’t feel anything. He was numb. The snow had stopped, and the smell of copper had filled his nose, overpowering him. 

“What am I feeling?” He asked. 

“Someone cauterized the wound,” Claire said. “Both sides. It probably saved his life. But if not you, who?”

“He did it himself,” Spider-Man answered.

_ Shit. Pete.  _ Matt had forgotten he was there. 

“That’s impossible,” Claire said, still looking over the unconscious man. “Even if he could withstand the pain, he wouldn’t have been able to reach his back. Not at the right angle.”

“It’s his arm,” Spider-Man replied. “Shuri - a friend of ours - she upgraded it. Was telling me about it recently. It’s extra flexible and can get longer and real hot. He did this himself.”

“Jesus. Shit, Matt.”

Somewhere, on the edge of his mind, Matt recognized that she had called him by his name. He didn’t care. His hand was still on James’s chest. It was wet. If James wasn’t still bleeding, why was Matt’s hand wet?

“It’s going to be ok,” Claire said quietly. “He’s strong.”

Matt realized he was crying. 

“We need to move him. Need to get him somewhere with the proper supplies. Can you carry him?” Claire asked Spider-Man. 

“I’ll carry him,” Matt replied possessively. 

“You’re in no shape. I…”

“I’ll carry him.” Matt cut Claire off. 

“He needs a hospital.”

“No!” Matt and Spider-Man responded in unison. 

“I know a place,” Spider-Man continued. They stood. “Matt,” he said quietly. “Matt, you need to put your mask back on.”

Matt hadn’t realized he had taken it off.

“This place you know,” Claire asked as they started walking, “there’s a doctor there?”

“Two, actually,” Spider-Man replied. “Maybe three depending on the… oh shit.” He pulled a phone out of his pocket and tapped it twice. He held it up to his ear. “Hey Doc, yeah. It’s Bucky. He’s hurt. We need… Thanks.”

Claire gasped. Matt wasn’t sure why.

“Come on,” Spider-Man said. “Just follow me. It’s fine.”

_ Follow you where…? _

Matt stopped in horror.They had disappeared. He took one step forward.  

Everything changed. 

The street was gone. They were inside a building. Everything was wrong. Matt heard voices.

“...could just do that, why did you even call me?” Claire asked.

“It didn’t occur to me!” Pete’s voice was clear. He had taken off his mask. “I’m not used to being in charge!”

Matt held Bucky tighter. He dropped to one knee. The world was spinning. He was afraid he might vomit or pass out or…

“You’re ok.” Matt heard Pete’s voice, right in front of his face. He felt Pete’s hands on his arms. Pete was taking Bucky. Matt tried to protest. The world spun again. Walls moved around him. The floor was falling beneath him. 

“We need to get both of them up the stairs!” Pete was right there. He was miles away. James was gone. Claire was throwing Matt’s arm around her shoulders. She was solid. He held on to her. He focused on her smell, her heartbeat, the movement of her breath inside her chest. He tried to ignore the world around them. They were walking on stairs. He couldn’t tell if they were going up or down. He couldn’t sense the edges of the room. It went on forever. It was collapsing in on him. He felt claustrophobic. He felt agoraphobic. He was holding onto Claire for dear life. He thought he was moving forwards. He might have been moving backwards. 

And then they were somewhere else. The walls around him were stone. The floor was stone. He was inside a mountain. There was a lot of technology. James was there. James’s arm was there, right in front of him. James wasn’t the only thing buzzing. The room was filled with vibranium. 

_ I’m in Wakanda. _

“You with us again, man?” Claire asked.

Matt nodded, pushing himself off of her. “You need to go help James.”

Claire laughed. “I wish you could see this place. If you could, you’d know that nobody here needs my help. I should probably just go.”

“Stay,” Matt heard a voice from across the room, where James was lying on a table. He remembered it from the first night he had followed James. Young. Foreign. “We will need all the help we can get.”

Claire stood up and walked towards the voice. Matt sat on a step. Pete sat down next to him. 

“You took off your mask?” Matt said. “Claire…?”

“Yeah,” Pete’s voice was small. “Figured it didn’t matter. Not now. If you trust her, then so do I.”

***

Bucky opened his eyes slowly. A pair of kind brown eyes stared down at him. They were framed by a face he didn’t recognize, which was in turn framed by a halo of bright, white light. A woman. “Are you an angel?” he asked.

The eyes flinched. “Don’t let your boyfriend hear you say that. Anyway, I’m done with you hero types.”

“Boyfriend?” Bucky thought for a moment. If he was dead, then… “Steve!”

The eyes flinched again. Worse this time. Bucky wiggled his fingers. His arm hurt. The light was too bright. His eyes hurt. His head hurt. His shoulder hurt. He was in a hospital bed. He wasn’t dead.

“Matt,” he whispered.

It was too late. Of course Matt had heard him. Matt had heard him wake up, hit on some woman he didn’t know, and then call out for Steve.

Bucky wished he were dead.

And then Matt was there, his eyes replacing the woman’s. They were brown flecked with green, and vacant, and sad. 

“Matt. I didn’t… I thought I was…”

“Shhh…” Matt shook his head. “It’s ok. I understand.”

_ No, you don’t understand! _

“You need to rest, ok?” Matt continued. You’re not out of it yet.”

“Matt, please.”

“It’s ok,” Matt stroked his hair gently. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here as soon as you wake up.”

Bucky struggled to keep his eyes open. He needed to tell Matt. He needed Matt to understand. He didn’t understand himself, but it was so important that Matt understood.

Bucky felt his eyes slide shut.

***

Matt slid down into the chair next to Bucky’s hospital bed, his fingers still interlaced with Bucky’s. He gritted his teeth. He was thankful that Bucky was waking up - thankful that Bucky was going to be ok - but that hadn’t gone down the way he had hoped. 

Claire sat down next to him. “He’s going to be ok. He heals so fast, Matt. It’s amazing.” Matt felt her reach out to take his hand, then pull away. They sat in silence for several minutes, then Claire spoke again. “Matt. The kid, Pete. He’s…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“He’s so young,” Claire said. 

Matt nodded. He could feel himself on the verge of tears again.

“You gotta take care of him, ok?” Claire said. “He needs somebody.”

Matt turned to face her. He missed Claire. She was so strong. So good. He nodded again. “Yeah. Yeah I will.”

“You can help with that too, if you’d like.” Matt heard the foreign voice behind him and he turned his body towards it.  _ Shuri,  _ his mind supplied. She was talking to Claire. “You are good at what you do. You are a natural healer, and you are brave.”

“I’m a nurse,” Claire replied, as if that was the only response needed. 

“Yes,” Shuri answered. “I am not a doctor. I am a scientist and an inventor and I understand this man’s body,” she gestured at Bucky lying on the hospital bed, “but I am not a doctor. We have many doctors here, in Wakanda, but most of them do not prefer to work with enhanced people. They will, of course. Saving lives is paramount. But they became doctors to help Wakandans. Even after everything we have been through, or maybe because of it, many are still wary of outsiders.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Claire said. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying that, if you would like, there is a place for you here. The portal is always open. You would not have to leave New York. You could train with the doctors here. You of course would not be limited to working only here, only with the Avengers. But you would have a place to work out of. I could have a clinic built here for you.”

“For enhanced people?”

Shuri smiled. “Yes. If that is what you wish.”

Matt felt Claire look at him. He felt the excitement and happiness pouring off of her. She looked back to Shuri. “Of course I’m interested. That’s an amazing opportunity.” She hesitated. “Ok, but I have to ask. I haven’t had a real job in a while and I’ve got rent and…”

“You would be more than appropriately compensated, Nurse Temple.”

“Please, call me Claire.” 

Matt smiled at the two women. He returned his attention to James. The man’s heartbeat was strong. His breathing was even. He was sleeping.

***

_ Bucky was dreaming again. _

_ The sky was dark. He was lying on his back, staring up at the stars. They weren’t Brooklyn’s stars. He didn’t recognize them, but he knew he should. It was late… no… he felt the air around him. It was heavy with dew and promise. It was early.   _

_ Bucky stood. He was in a field. The wind blew through the tall grasses. He was walking towards a hut. His hut. Someone was there, waiting for him. Steve! Bucky started to run. _

_ He was in his hut in Wakanda, the one he had lived in after he had woken up as himself, remembering himself, remembering everything he had done. The Winter Soldier’s memories were there, too. More than he had ever remembered when he was the Winter Soldier. He remembered all of it. It was a part of him. This place was safe. He could be alone. He could try to understand what he had done - what they had made him do. _

_ He wasn’t alone. Steve was there. Steve was looking at him. Steve was sad. _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

_ Steve hadn’t spoken. The words were in Bucky’s head. “I’m sorry I can’t be who you need. I want to be. You need to get better. You need someone who can help you get better.” _

_ “I’ll just make you worse.” It was still Steve, but he was little. They were in their apartment in Brooklyn. Bucky looked up. There was no roof. The Wakandan stars were still in the sky. There was a hint of light at the horizon. A little goat lay at little Steve’s feet. “It’s not fair. You took care of me. You always took care of me. I wish I knew how to take care of you, Buck. But I can’t. Not now. I’ll make you worse. I have to go, Bucky, I’m sorry.” _

_ Bucky stepped forward. He tried to speak. He reached out to Steve. He didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound. Steve was gone. The apartment was gone. The hut was gone. He was standing in a field. The goat was still there. He was lying in a man’s lap. The man was looking down at the goat. _

_ No… the voice came from somewhere deep in Bucky’s mind. Not looking. _

_ The man was petting the goat. Holding it. Cradling it. Running his fingers through the goat’s hair so carefully. Like the goat was the most precious thing the man had ever seen. _

_ No… the voice again. Not seen. _

_ The man stood. He was dark and solid and still cradling the goat. His eyes were brown and vacant. “This is perfect,” the man said, to the goat. “You’re perfect.” _

_ The sun was rising. _

***

Matt felt a hand on his shoulder. Strange. The doctor’s pulse fluctuated erratically. Matt didn’t like him. Or, more specifically, Matt didn’t like being in the same room as him. Strange wasn’t solid. He didn’t seem real. He was there, with them, inside the mountain in Wakanda, but he was somewhere else, too, at the same time. He flickered on the edges of Matt’s perception. It gave Matt a headache. 

“I would not read too much into what was said,” Strange spoke to him. “Sergeant Barnes is heavily medicated. It is likely he does not know where or even when he is.”

Matt nodded. He knew that. It didn’t help, but he knew it.

It didn’t change the fact that James had called out for Steve. It didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Walk with me,” Strange said. It wasn’t a question.

“I’d rather not,” Matt replied, standing anyway. “I’d like to stay with him, if I can.”

“I will ensure you return before Sergeant Barnes awakes,” Strange replied, coldly. “Walk with me.”

“I don’t…” Matt struggled to express what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to offend an Avenger, especially one he knew to be so powerful. “I don’t want to go back where we were. Before this.”

“It hurt you.” Strange replied. It still wasn’t a question.

Matt nodded.

“That was the Sanctum Sanctorum. My home. I do apologize. It did not occur to me how uncomfortable it would be for someone with your gifts.” Matt wasn’t sure what he thought a conversation with Steven Strange, Avenger and Sorcerer Supreme, would be like, but it certainly wasn’t this. “Now, shall we take that walk?”

Matt untangled his fingers from James’s with regret, and stood. 

“Perhaps you would like a change of clothes?” Strange said, holding out his hand. 

Matt stopped, tilting his head, feeling the sudden appearance of softness and smelling the familiar scent of home. His clothes rested in Strange’s hand. “How?” he asked. 

“It is not so hard to go back and retrieve that which you have left behind, if you know where to look.”

“Okaaaay….”

Matt felt Strange smile. “I’ll show you where you can change. Then we should really go for a walk. The air here is amazing.”

Dr. Strange directed Matt to a large, comfortably furnished room off of Shuri’s lab, where Matt quickly changed into the sweatpants and t-shirt that Strange had given him. He stepped back out into the hallway. 

“I retrieved these for you as well,” Strange said, handing Matt his cane and glasses. “We must go up to get out.”

They stepped into a large elevator, and Matt was impressed at how high they seemed to travel up before stepping out to stand on a small balcony carved into the rock. Matt smelled the air. Strange was right. It was amazing. It was cleaner than any city he had ever been in, and it smelled like earth and grass and stone, and just beneath that something strangely floral. Matt felt the vibranium that dotted the countryside. Birds flew above his head, pushing the air around them. He felt the ground tremble with the footsteps of large animals, both wild and tame. In the distance, he heard the sound of troops training. The sun was shining, and Matt allowed himself to bask in it for several moments, face upwards. 

“Thank you,” he finally said. “I would have stayed in there until we left and missed all this.”

Matt could feel Strange smile. “I’m glad to have helped,” he said, and Matt turned towards him. Strange’s voice was sad and hesitant, a change from moments ago. He seemed more solid, too. Like something had shifted, and he was now fully there. “Mr. Murdock, I’ve done something and I owe you an apology.”

“Oh?” It was easier to focus on Strange now. The man’s heartbeat was calm. He was not nervous, but his demeanor had certainly changed.  _ Regret,  _ Matt decided.

“Yes. You see… Well, before I can explain what I did, I think it important I explain why I did it. Is that alright?”

“I’m listening.”

“Captain Rogers and I were not very close. I had not met him before the battle with Thanos, but I knew him to be a good man. When he came to me, before he left, I was surprised. Since then, I’ve realized that he likely believed I already knew. But I didn’t.”

“Knew what?” Matt asked.

“What he intended to do,” Strange clarified. “When he left to return the infinity stones to their rightful places in time, he told only two people of his plans to remain behind: Sergeant Barnes, and myself. I am certain that he believed I had already seen the future, and therefore knew what he intended to do, but I hadn’t. Seeing the future is tricky. It’s not predetermined; there are so many potential outcomes. Frankly, I don’t have the time to sort through all that. It’s not worth the energy. Not usually, anyway. But the Captain told me his plans, nonetheless, and when he did he asked me to make him a promise.”

Strange was silent.

“Please, continue,” Matt said, prompting him.

“Rogers made me promise that, when he was gone, I would look after Barnes and make sure he was alright.”

“I see.”

“I take my promises very seriously, Mr. Murdock. So when Barnes came to the team and informed us of your existence, and his relationship with you, I took note.”

Matt nodded, eyes downcast.

“I want to be totally honest with you, Mr. Murdock, I was concerned. The vigilantes of New York do not have the greatest of reputations. So I looked into your past.”

“I don’t suppose that means you googled me.”

“It does not.” Strange continued. “In fact, I watched your entire life.” He laid a hand on Matt’s shoulder, and Matt turned his face up towards Strange. 

_ May as well get this over with,  _ Matt thought.

“What I learned, Mr. Murdock, is that you are a good person. You are strong, and kind, and generous to a fault. Yes, you have your flaws, but we all do. That’s what makes us human. But, without a doubt, you are worthy of the affection that Barnes feels for you. More so, and unfortunately for me, I learned that I like you. You seem like the kind of person who, if you decided to become a part of this team, I would very much like to be friends with.”

Matt felt a little bit like he was having a stroke. This, again, was not how he had expected the conversation to go.

“We have a lot in common, Mr. Murdock. We are both professionals. I graduated from Columbia just a few years before you started. We both were injured in a way that was irreparable, that ended who we were and determined who we would become. We both perceive the world differently from everyone else around us. But,” Strange paused again. “I also learned that you are fiercely protective of your privacy. A privacy that, in learning all this, I had violated. So,” Strange held out both hands in front of him, palms up. “I am here today to offer you an apology. I know it is not enough. I hope that you can understand why I did what I did, and that you can forgive me. And I hope that one day we might be able to become friends.”

Matt stood in silence for a moment. Strange dropped his hands to his side, awkwardly, then scratched the back of his head. 

Finally Matt spoke. “In all that research, did you happen to learn that I’m Catholic?”

“Of course,” Strange replied. “Your faith is crucial to who you are.”

Matt smiled. “Then you should know that Catholics are all about forgiveness. Outside of guilt, it’s what we do best.” Matt held out his hand. “Matt.”

Strange took the extended hand in his own, shaking it firmly. “Steven,” he replied. Matt could feel him smile. “Come on, then. He’ll be waking up soon. Let's get you back inside.”

Matt took one more deep breath of the Wakandan air, and then followed Strange back into the mountain. 

***

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, cautiously. Matt heard them. Heard the change in Bucky’s breathing. Heard Bucky shift the muscles in his fingers and his toes. He squeezed Bucky’s hand slightly and stood to look down over him.

“Matt?”

Matt smiled. “Yeah James. I’m here. Don’t try to move.” 

But Bucky wasn’t listening. Before Matt or Shuri or Claire could do anything to stop him, Bucky had sat up in the bed, wrapped his arm around Matt’s strong shoulders, and then lay back down on the bed pulling Matt down with him into a deep kiss. __

Matt gasped in surprise, hesitating for just a moment, then he let himself fall into the kiss, one hand planted firmly to the side of Bucky’s head in order to keep from crushing him, the other sliding up to tangle itself in Bucky’s hair. Not that, Matt suspected, it would matter if he did crush James. His heartbeat was strong, the hole in his arm already mostly healed.  _ James was a miracle _ , Matt thought, as he felt Bucky’s hand roam across his back and up under his shirt.  _ A goddamned miracle.  _ Shuri had taken the vibranium arm off while Bucky was unconscious, and Matt wasn’t quite sure if he was thankful or deeply regretful for that fact. 

Shuri cleared her throat, and the two men separated sheepishly. “My patient needs to rest,” she said to Matt, pointedly. “If I feel you are preventing that, I will not hesitate to remove you.”

Matt nodded, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Of course. Resting. I’m here to help. With the resting.” Matt’s face hurt he was smiling so hard. He stroked Bucky’s forehead, pushing his hair up and back and away from his face. “Are you resting?” Matt leaned in and asked, after Claire and Shuri had walked away.

Bucky nodded. He picked up Matt’s hand and moved it to his lips, tracing them with Matt’s fingers. “But I can rest and kiss at the same time,” Bucky whispered. “I’m very good at multitasking.”

“Good to know,” Matt whispered back, and he leaned in to kiss Bucky again.

***

The two men walked down a gently curving path. Bucky’s vibranium arm had been left up in Shuri’s lab; the remaining stub of his shoulder tucked behind a fabric sling. His hair was loose, hanging down his back. Matt thought Bucky felt calmer than he had ever known him to be before. 

Matt had his hand tucked through Bucky’s arm as he walked. He listened to the wind blowing through the tall grasses, and the birds flying through the air. Somewhere, up ahead, he heard the faint sounds of a small creek, the quiet noises of farm animals, and the sound of children playing. Suddenly, Bucky stepped in front of him. They stopped walking.    
  
“I needed to say… I’m sorry about before, when I woke up. The first time,” Bucky said sadly. 

“You remember that?” Matt asked. “You were pretty out of it so I didn’t…”

“I thought I was dead,” Bucky said, trying to clarify. 

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I do..”

“You don’t,” Matt cut him off sharply. “Not now. Maybe not ever. He’ll always be important to you, and I wouldn’t want to change that. I Wouldn’t even try.”

Bucky stared at him silently. 

Matt began walking again, keeping himself centered between the grasses on both sides of the path. Bucky paused for a moment, then jogged to catch up with him, taking Matt’s hand and placing it back on his own arm. 

“You know what I want, James.” Matt continued. “I think I’ve been pretty clear. But I don’t want anything that you’re not ready for. I don’t want anything that makes you sad or uncomfortable. I don’t want you to feel like you’re dishonoring his memory.”

“It’s not that,” Bucky said. “It hasn’t been that for a while now.”

“Then what?” Matt asked.

Bucky was silent for a long time. Finally, they stopped walking. Bucky spoke. “This is it,” he said quietly. There was a small hut in front of them. “This is where I lived after I was unfrozen. After Shuri pulled the triggers out of my head and I was back to being me.”

Matt smiled. “It sounds lovely here,” he said. “The air is so peaceful.”

Bucky nodded. “I’m scared I’m going to hurt you, Matt.”

Matt turned to face him. “Physically, or emotionally?” he asked.

“Both?”

Matt laughed, and Bucky flinched. “No, I’m sorry,” Matt said, reaching out a hand to grab Bucky’s. “It’s just that I already kicked your ass once, so…”

This time it was Bucky’s turn to laugh. “You? You kicked my ass? Wow, Murdock. You must have been really drunk to remember it that way.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? I feel like that basically counts as kicking the Winter Soldier’s ass.”

Bucky cupped Matt’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, then brushed his hand up and back, tracing over Matt’s lips and cheek, and then pushing back through his hair. “You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

Matt was silent, listening to Bucky’s heart beat.

“I want this,” Bucky said quietly. “I just need to take it slow, until I can trust myself.”

Matt chewed on his lower lip. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Bucky nodded.

Matt reached his own hand up and found Bucky’s face. He pulled Bucky towards him, kissing him until Matt wasn’t sure where his own heartbeat ended and Bucky’s began. Somewhere, in the distance, Matt heard the sound of goats bleating. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THREE CHEERS FOR CLAIRE!!
> 
> And yeah, I know she's not supposed to be there anymore. But nobody ever really leaves New York, right? 
> 
> Other notes: 
> 
> 1\. If writing Foggy Nelson is like free therapy, writing Matt Murdock walking through The Sanctum is like taking a pile of drugs.  
> 2\. Listen, I know Shuri's lab got destroyed, but they re-built it, ok?  
> 3\. GOATS!!!!!!!!
> 
> Ok, the next update will be on Friday and it will be another long one! We have four chapters after this one, and they are all basically done. So... I mean obviously I can be peer pressured into posting faster because that's what happened today. Let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for your comments as always! I love each and every one of them.


	18. The Courtship of Matthew Michael Murdock and James Buchanan Barnes (AKA Two Times Bucky Surprises Matt, Two Times Matt Surprises Bucky, and the One Time Frank is Surprised by a Raccoon.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're taking things a bit differently this chapter, as you may have noticed by the chapter title alone. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> In our first tale, Bucky and Matt are going to a fancy party. For your visual enjoyment
> 
> Bucky is wearing this:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Matt is wearing this: 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!!

“Dude, you need to chill.”

Clint’s words startled Bucky, who hadn’t realized that he’d been pacing.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Clint asked.

Bucky turned to glare at him, wide-eyed. From across the room, Frank snorted.

“No, that’s not… I didn’t mean…” Clint stuttered. “You look great. What I meant to ask is, ‘are you all ready to go?’ They should be here soon.”

“I’m supposed to wear this,” he held up a black strip of fabric which, if handled properly, could become a bow tie. “But I don’t think I can.”

“Can’t, or don’t want to?” Frank asked, looking Bucky over. “Because nobody’s makin’ you and ya’ look great without it. Nobody’s gonna turn you away at the door, I can promise you that.”

Bucky was wearing a deep blue velvet tuxedo jacket, a crisp white shirt with black studs and cufflinks, and pressed black pants. His hair was pulled back neatly in a low bun. He had never worn a tux before in his life, and he felt ridiculous. “Matt said it was fancy,” he shrugged. “Lotsa fancy lawyer types there. I wanna look the part. For him.”

“Matt doesn’t care what you look like,” Clint said gently.

“They’re all gonna be dressed up.” Bucky swallowed hard and tried to stand up tall, talking himself into it. “I can do this.” He slid the tie under his collar and around his neck, then fiddled with the ends. “I’m um... I’m not actually sure I can do this.” 

“Come’ere,” Frank said, gesturing him over. Frank stood up from where he had been leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter, and walked to meet Bucky half way. His calloused fingers moved quickly, shaping the fabric into a perfect batwing.

Clint walked over and inspected Frank’s work. “How do you know how to do that?” he asked, incredulously. 

“I contain multitudes, Barton.” Frank replied, returning to his beer. 

Bucky started pacing again. 

“They’re here,” Clint called out after a moment, staring down from the window onto the street. It was snowing again. It felt like it had snowed every day since Christmas.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Bucky muttered, taking Frank’s beer out of his hand and downing it in one gulp. “Fuck.” He walked to the door. Opened it. “FUCK!” he said, one more time, over his shoulder, before slamming the door behind him.

The two remaining men stood in silence for a moment.

“Asshole drank my beer,” Frank finally said.

“You doing anything tonight?” Clint asked, walking to the fridge and pulling out two more beers. He handed one to Frank. “Shouldn’t you be headed to the fancy lawyer party, too?”

Frank shook his head. “Nah. That’d be a disaster, wouldn’t it? Just imagine, me and all them lawyers? They’d lose their shit. And I ain’t wearin’ no tux for nobody. Also, this is Foggy’s girlfriend’s party and Karen wasn’t invited. It’s big drama.” He took a drink of his beer. “I’m going to her place. We’re gonna eat Thai food and maybe yell at tourists. Wanna come?”

“Thanks man,” Clint said, “but I’m going to have to pass. Bruce offered to fly me home. I should be able to make it before midnight. Surprise Laura and the kids.”

“You gonna stay there?” Frank asked.

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I think so. Things are calm here. You guys have it under control. Time to face my demons.”

“New Years Resolution?”

“Something like that,” Clint agreed with a weak smile.

“I’m proud of you, man.” Frank said, clasping Clint firmly on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be hard, but family’s all you really ever got.”

Below, on the street, Bucky stepped out of the apartment building. Matt was waiting, standing in front of a limo, holding the door open. 

Bucky was suddenly very glad he had gone for the bow tie. Jesus fucking Christ, Matt looked good. His tux was classic black, of course, but it was impeccably tailored and Matt’s solid frame looked like it had been poured in. He heard Matt laugh quietly, and Bucky realized that he had been standing there, staring, heart pounding in his chest. 

“You the chauffeur?” Bucky asked, trying to regain some of his swagger.

“Kinda feels that way,” Matt answered with a smile. 

Bucky helped Matt back into the limo, running his fingers gently up the man’s back. “You should always dress like this,” he whispered, just loud enough for Matt and only Matt to hear. Then Bucky followed Matt into the limo, taking in the faces staring back at him. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” he said, extending his hand to the man he knew to be Matt’s best friend, Foggy Nelson. He was just as Matt described him; he had a comfortable frame, a kind face, and a politician’s handshake. But his smile looked forced and there were daggers behind his eyes when he shook Bucky’s hand.  _ That’s ok,  _ Bucky thought.  _ I wouldn’t trust me with my best friend either. _

Marci Stahl had white blonde hair and a stunning smile, and eyes that were wider than Bucky could have imagined anyone’s eyes ever being as he leaned forward to kiss her hand. “Ma’am,” he intoned as sweetly as he could, feeling the Brooklyn seep back into his drawl. Her mouth opened and closed, wordlessly. Bucky smiled, wondering if anyone had warned her that Matt was bringing his boyfriend with tonight. Based on her reaction, he suspected not. Foggy was going to be in trouble.

The fifth member of the party was a woman Matt introduced as Jennifer Walters. She had black hair which was currently piled in a sensible knot on her head, and black rimmed glasses. Bucky thought she looked strangely familiar. She held out her hand, making it very clear that she expected it to be shook and not kissed. Matt handed Bucky glass of champagne and he leaned back into the leather limo seats, content to rest under Matt’s arm and let the conversation wash over him. 

By the time they reached their destination, Bucky was starting to remember that he used to like this - that he used to be good at it. When he was young, there wouldn’t have been a party around that James Buchanan Barnes couldn’t have schmoozed his way into. And he wouldn’t even have been allowed to have who he wanted on his arm. Now… He helped Matt out of the car, and realized that this felt good. It felt right. 

Matt tucked his hand into Bucky’s elbow, letting his fingers run over the soft velvet of Bucky’s jacket. “I like this a lot,” he said quietly. 

Bucky smiled, then guided Matt into the ballroom at the swanky upper-east side hotel. He felt even more emboldened as they walked to their table and he was introduced to Jeri Hogarth, a handsome woman who looked Bucky once over like he was a piece of meat, then said to Matt, in the coolest of tones, “I’m actually impressed, Murdock. I didn’t think you had it in you,” before walking away, her tight black ball gown clinging to her hips. 

Matt toasted her retreating figure. “That might be the nicest thing she’s ever said to me, actually,” he smiled at Bucky. 

The two worked the room. Matt was charming, putting everyone at ease with his quiet confidence and self-deprecating humor. Bucky kept his backstory as simple and honest as possible. He’d been in the army, lost his arm, was working as a security consultant at Stark Industries. Nobody questioned him. If anyone recognized him, they kept it to themselves. 

It was getting close to midnight when Bucky leaned over to Matt. “Dance with me,” he murmured, lips brushing Matt’s ear. 

Matt snorted. “Oh, shit,” he said, when Bucky frowned at him. “No, I mean… I’d love to. But James, I’ve been blind since I was eight. I was raised by nuns. I don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Here? Now?” Bucky could see the panic on Matt’s face. “I’ll make a fool of you. I’ll make a fool of me.”

“I won’t let you, sweetheart. Dance with me.” Bucky grabbed Matt’s hand and led him to the dancefloor. Someone had hired what Bucky thought they probably considered an authentic big band and, while it was anything but authentic, Bucky had to admit it wasn’t terrible. The singer was crooning:

_ The same old tingle that i feel _

_ Inside _

_ When that elevator starts its ride _

_ Down and down I go, round and round I go _

_ Like a leaf that's _

_ Caught in the tide _

“It’s slow,” he whispered. “Just hold me. Don’t fight it. Give me some tension in your arms. More,” he pushed on Matt’s arms, showing him what he wanted.

_ I should stay away but what can I do _

_ I hear your name, and I'm aflame _

_ Aflame with _

_ Such a burning desire _

_ That only your kiss can put out the fire _

“See how I can move you around? You’re the follower. I’m the lead. You don’t move unless I move you, ok?”

_ You are the lover that I've waited for _

_ The mate that fate had me created for _

_ And every time your lips meet mine _ __

“There you go,” Bucky continued as Matt adjusted. God, dancing with him was a dream. Make a fool of them? How could he, when Matt could hear what Bucky’s body wanted him to do. The slightest push. The slightest pull, and suddenly Matt was moving in his arms gracefully, going exactly where Bucky wanted him to go.

_ Baby down and down I go, _

_ All around I go _

_ In a spin, loving the spin that I'm in _

_ Under that old black magic called love _

The song stopped.  _ “It’s time!”  _ the band leader announced. Bucky ushered Matt back to their table, where fresh glasses of champagne had been laid out. 

Matt was breathless. “I had no idea. Where did you learn how…?” he started to ask. His eyes were even glassier than usual, cheeks flushed. Bucky held him tight, still supporting him. Still leading him. 

The band started the countdown. Loud. Overpowering: “10, 9 8…”

Bucky handed Matt his glass of champagne.

“7, 6, 5, 4…” 

Bucky clinked his glass against Matt’s. Held it to his lips.

“3, 2, 1. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”

Bucky took a sip of his champagne, then pulled Matt in close, kissing him deeply. 

***

Matt heard them when they were about six blocks away, joking and laughing. He smiled and took a sip of the beer he had taken out of their fridge. He listened to the sound of the onions caramelizing in the pan on the stove in front of him. Still plenty of time there. He turned on the two back burners, where two large pots were already sitting, one filled with stock and the other water.

Bucky and Frank unlocked the front door to their building, and Matt felt cold air rush in from the street below. It was late January, and New York was freezing. Matt shivered and began pulling things out of the fridge: smoked salmon, caviar, sour cream. He lay them out on the counter in front of him. Three small glasses. Three plates. A bottle of vodka from the freezer. He pre-heated the cast iron pain he had set out on the final burner.

When Bucky and Frank unlocked the door to their apartment, Matt was aggressively whisking batter in a bowl.

“Jesus hell, Red, what are you doing here?” Frank exclaimed. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you on accident.”

Bucky stared at the spread on the counter, wide eyed.

“I’m making you dinner, Frank, so be a good boy and say ‘thank you.’ Plus, it’d be pretty hard to shoot me when you don’t even have a gun on you. Honestly, I didn’t know you left the house like that. Do you feel naked?”

Frank snorted.

“What is all this?” Bucky asked, as Matt started carefully dropping spoonfuls of batter into the hot pan.

“I asked Clint what kind of food you’d like,” Matt said, “and he suggested Russian. Pete agreed. It’s my first time, so I hope it’s ok. Here.” He carefully lifted two paper thin cakes out of the pan, laying one each on Frank and Bucky’s plates. “They’re best when they’re hot!”

Frank eyed his plate suspiciously. “It’s a tiny pancake?”

“It’s a blini,” Bucky told him. “Here, like this.” Bucky took Frank’s blini and carefully folded it into fourths. He topped it with sour cream and caviar.

Frank narrowed his eyes. 

“Give it a try, Frank. It’s not going to bite back,” Matt said laughing, with his back to them, carefully flipping another round of blini. He stirred the onions, then quickly and precisely began to chiffonade some parsley. 

“Oh my god,” Bucky exclaimed, his mouth full of blini and caviar. “Matt, this is spectacular. Why did I not know you could cook?”

“I hate to cook at home,” Matt replied, pulling out the second round of blini and setting them down on Bucky and Frank’s plates. Frank had taken one cautious bite of his blini with caviar, and was now devouring it. Matt turned around, dropped in more batter, stirred the onions, and began thinly slicing a steak. “No matter what I make, I can smell it in the apartment for months. Eventually all the smells blend together and it’s just too much.” He carefully dropped what Bucky recognized as perfectly shaped Pelmeni into the pot of stock. “But I love to cook. It means I get to eat what I like. Too many restaurants over-salt, you know.” Another round of blini came out, and Matt pulled out an extra plate to start piling them on. He began mincing mushrooms. “You want to pour the vodka? I hope it’s good. I stopped by that place you pointed out once in Brighton Beach and they told me it was the good stuff, but I have no clue.”

Bucky poured out three glasses and took a sip. “It’s good.”

The three men sat on stools around the kitchen counter, eating blini and Pelmeni soup and bef stroganov over buttered egg noodles, talking about nothing in particular. They talked about how cold it was, and Matt’s most recent case, and how Clint was doing back in Missouri. They aggressively did not talk about what they had missed during the snap, or family lost, or their feelings on shooting people in the head. When Matt could hear everyone was getting full, he moved to the fridge and pulled out a beautiful cake made of twenty or more thin layers.

“I didn’t make this,” he admitted, setting the honey cake on the counter. “Baking is hard. You can’t really measure by ear. I can do it by weight, sometimes, but that’s risky. But I smelled this in the shop and I couldn’t resist.”

“Wish you could see it,” Bucky said reverently. “It’s a thing of beauty.”

Matt got the feeling that Bucky wasn’t looking at the cake. 

After eating far too much cake and washing the dishes, Frank excused himself to take a walk. 

“It’s too cold!” Bucky protested.

“I don’t mind. Gotta work some of this off,” Frank said, patting his stomach.

“He’s lying,” Matt said, after the door closed behind him.

“You don’t need super senses to figure that,” Bucky replied, pulling Matt in and kissing him. “This was amazing, baby. I didn’t know you could do that. And to include Frank. You didn’t have to…”

“Shush,” Matt pressed his finger to Bucky’s lips. “You like him, and Karen likes him, and I guess that means I should like him too. He’s had my back enough times now.”

Bucky nipped at Matt’s finger.

“How dare!” Matt said, in mock dismay, tapping his finger sharply against Bucky’s lip.

Bucky growled and pushed into Matt. Matt held his ground, pushing back into Bucky. In the end, though, Bucky was stronger and the two men toppled onto the couch. “That was,” Bucky gasped between kisses, “beyond a doubt,” he ground himself into Matt, “the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Matt growled back, grabbing the back of Bucky’s head with one hand and his ass with the other, pulling Bucky down harder into himself. Matt bit at Bucky’s lips and tangled his hands roughly in Bucky’s hair. “We can’t, though,” he gasped, trying not to rut at Bucky’s leg. “Frank isn’t going far. He’ll be back soon. It’s below zero and Karen’s out of town.”

Bucky groaned, pulling away slightly. “Having a roommate is the worst.”

_ You could come live with me,  _ Matt thought, but he didn’t say it out loud.

When Frank came back, 15 minutes later, the two men were snuggled under a blanket on the couch, listening to jazz. If both of them looked a little flushed, Frank had the decency to keep that to himself. 

***

It was Valentine's Day. Bucky was sitting at a table in too fancy a restaurant with Matt, Frank, Karen, Clint, and Laura. It had been Clint’s idea; he was pretty sure. He knew it wasn’t his or Matt’s, and he deeply suspected it wasn’t Frank’s. He was also fairly certain it wasn’t Laura’s. Dinner out for Valentine’s Day, maybe. But she wasn’t a huge fan of New York and probably would have preferred to stay in Missouri. Bucky still didn’t know Karen that well, but he didn’t believe that anyone except Clint could have talked Frank into this. That man knew how to push Frank’s buttons. He was happy to have Clint back, though, even if it was only just for the evening. Bucky hadn’t quite realized how much he missed him over the month-and-a-half that he’d been gone.

Right now, Clint was staring incredulously at Matt.

“Ok, so let me get this straight,” Clint was saying. “You were blinded when you were eight after you saved an old man’s life. Then your dad got killed in a mob hit after he refused to throw a boxing match because he wanted to impress you. Then you were raised by nuns. Then you got quasi-adopted by a blind, old, ninja dude who trained you up to be a weapon in his war against a mystical army, who then un-adopted you and gave you back to the nuns, one of whom turned out to be your mom? Have I gotten all that right?”

Karen giggled, and Matt nodded.

The table was silent.

Frank was the one to finally break it: “Yeah, that... explains a lot, actually.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He was proud of Matt. That was, by far, the most sharing Bucky had ever heard Matt do. And, ok, technically Matt hadn’t been the one doing the sharing. Karen had shared Matt’s life story for him, but Matt had resisted breaking things in order to get her to stop, and he hadn’t gotten up and left, so Bucky was considering it a win.

He gave Matt’s leg a little squeeze under the table, and Matt shifted closer to him. 

Dinner was going well. The conversation was flowing, nobody was fighting, everything seemed right with the world. Most surprising to Bucky was the way that Matt and Frank seemed to be getting along. Frank was laying the charm on Karen extra thick, and Matt was openly grinning at how much Karen seemed to be enjoying it. They were just starting dessert when Bucky noticed Clint staring, with a confused expression, at the table next to them.

A couple was sitting there, a blonde woman in a red dress, and a dark haired man with a solid, stocky frame and a square jaw. Clint looked like he was trying to put a name to the face; as if this man was someone he had gone to high-school with or met at a party once.

Bucky knew who the man was immediately, and he knew why he knew him.

It was Jack Rollins, former member of the S.H.I.E.L.D.-but-actually-Hydra Strike Force. 

Bucky gasped and Clint turned to him, realization dawning in his eyes. 

“Are you ok? Bucky?”

Bucky stood, trembling. He didn’t know what he was planning on doing. His body was moving on it’s own.

“Bucky,” Clint hissed at him. “Bucky sit down. We’re not here to make a scene. If he’s here… we don’t know. He served time in jail. He’s not doing anything wrong. We can’t…”

Rollins noticed the commotion and turned to look at them. He seemed confused for a moment, then his eyes locked on to Bucky’s and a look of fear washed over him. He looked around, noticed Clint’s arm blocking Bucky’s path, saw Matt to Bucky’s other side, and the fear subsided. The edges of his lips turned up in a wicked smile. He winked at Bucky.

Bucky didn’t have time to move, couldn’t take one step towards Rollins before Matt was on his feet, standing in Bucky’s path. “Come on,” Matt said hoarsely, taking Bucky’s hand in his own. “Let’s go, James. Now. You need to get out of here.” Bucky vaguely noticed Matt throwing money down on the table.

Bucky didn’t move.

He felt Matt start rubbing his hand, pressing his thumb down hard into the place where Bucky’s thumb and pointer finger met, squeezing the area tightly. It hurt a little.

Bucky took a breath.

“Let’s go,” Matt said again.

Bucky nodded, but he stood still, stuck in place. 

“I don’t have my cane,” Matt said firmly. “I need you to guide me.” He didn’t let go of Bucky’s hand. Didn’t stop squeezing and rubbing the same spot. “Do it. Now. Walk me out.” 

Bucky’s legs started moving. His heart was pounding in his head. He tried not to make eye contact with Rollins. He couldn’t stop himself from glaring at Rollins. One of Matt’s hands was firm on Bucky’s arm, the other moved purposefully up Bucky’s back, fingers digging in to Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky felt his heart rate dropping. He felt himself walk through the restaurant and step outside.

Bucky began to shake.

“Not yet,” Matt muttered, soothingly. The hand on Bucky’s back began to stroke up and down the sides of his spine, fingers pressing firmly. “Soon. Come on, James. You can do this. You’ve got this. I need you to flag down a cab, ok.”

Bucky stepped forward. His body was moving on instinct. His brain was collapsing in on itself.

Matt got him into the cab. Once he was seated, Matt’s hands were immediately on him. Bucky didn’t remember Matt giving the cab driver Bucky’s address. He didn’t remember how they got to the Bed-Stuey apartment, or how Matt got him into his bed. He just remembered Matt’s hands on him. Every time Bucky started to shake, his body tensing, the desire to hurt something, hurt himself, rising up inside him, Matt’s hands were there, soothing the offending muscle, quieting the tremor. Bucky knew he was crying. Matt didn’t seem to care. The fear was draining out of him; the stress and the pain disappearing. Matt’s hands were taking the pain and the fear away and Bucky was drifting off to sleep.

When Bucky woke early the next morning, Matt was there, asleep, in a small ball on the side of the bed. Bucky was in a t-shirt and boxers, tucked under the covers. Matt was on top of the covers, fully clothed. He woke the moment Bucky did, and Bucky wondered if he’d even really been asleep.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said quickly, jumping out of the bed. “I shouldn’t have stayed without your permission, but you were having nightmares and I wanted to be close.”

“That man, at the restaurant…” Bucky started shaking again, and Matt’s hands were immediately on him, soothing him.

“Shh… It’s ok. I don’t need to know. It doesn’t matter.”

“I want to tell you,” Bucky said, pulling away. He didn’t want Matt thinking this was an ex or something.  

“Ok,” Matt said quietly, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “But can I keep touching you, please? Just on your back. Just like this.” Matt started massaging his back again.

Bucky nodded. “His name is Jack Rollins. He was a member of Hydra’s Strike Force. They were in charge of me, when I was… who I was before.” Matt was pushing his fingers into Bucky’s shoulders and neck. It felt good. He relaxed into it. “They made me do terrible things. They did terrible things to me,” Bucky’s voice cracked. “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t be in jail.”

“Shhh…” Matt said again, soothing him. His hands worked deeper into Bucky’s back and neck muscles. Bucky felt himself relaxing further. “I can look into it if you want? See if there’s anything we can do.”

Bucky felt his mind going blank. “Maybe?” he replied. “I don’t know. I’ll… how are you doing this?”

Matt smiled. “Magic fingers,” he whispered into Bucky’s ear. “Pressure points, and knowing how to find them. Do you want to sleep some more?”

Bucky nodded, lying back down in his bed.

Matt kept moving his fingers over Bucky, focusing now on the front of his shoulders and his forehead, until Bucky fell blissfully, dreamlessly asleep.

***

“Wait, so you two haven’t had sex yet?” Foggy was incredulous.

“Ok, first off it’s none of your business,” Matt replied with a sigh. “We were taking it slow for his sake, but it seems like something is always getting in the way. One of us keeps getting called off. And now he’s leaving this afternoon to go on a mission in Symkaria or something like that. We’ve done plenty of other stuff, just not… You know what, no. I’m going back to ‘it’s none of your Goddamned business.’”

“That sucks, buddy. I’m sorry.”

Matt took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. It was fine. Of course it was fine. He was happy just to be close to James, but also Foggy was right. It did suck. Matt’s body was wrecked with anticipation. Punching things helped get some of the stress out, and he’d been taking Pete to the gym with more regularity, but he wanted James bad. If Matt was being totally honest with himself, this was probably the longest he had gone without in a long time. 

“And Pete,” Karen called out to him. He was in the other room filing. “You just happen to be headed out on a last minute, unplanned vacation, that you don’t know when you’ll be back from, at the same time Bucky’s going on this mission with the Avengers?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Pete stuck his head into Matt’s office. “Yeah, I’m actively not listening to the conversation about Mr. Murdock and Mr. Barnes’s love life, because I find it deeply disturbing. Not, I mean, the part where you’re gay,” Pete backtracked. “You do you and all that. Just the part where it’s Mr. Murdock and Mr. Barnes because that’s creepy.”

“And how do you know Bucky Barnes so well?” Karen asked, narrowing her eyes at Peter. 

“Oh. You know…” Pete fumbled. “From my internship?”

“Your internship at Stark Industries. Where you worked in tech development?”

_ Oh shit,  _ Matt thought.  _ Well, it was a good run.  _

“Uh… yes?”

_ You’re done for, kid.  _

“So, did Tony Stark make a habit of introducing all his high-school aged interns to deadly assassins, or were you in some way special?”

Peter looked desperately at Matt for help. 

Matt pretended not to notice. He was blind, after all.

“Spill it, Parker.”

The door opened and Bucky walked into the office, carrying a tray of large coffee cups from Starbucks. “He’s Spider-Man,” Bucky said nonchalantly. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Karen gaped at Bucky, both at his words and at his sudden appearance in their office. He had never visited Matt at work before.

“He’s Spider-Man,” Bucky repeated. “I mean, look at him. Isn’t it obvious? He’s all tough and manly. Who would ever doubt that this fine physical specimen here is the one and only Spider-Man?”

“Hey wait a minute…” Peter choked out. 

Bucky laughed. “Here, I brought you all coffee.” He started passing them out. “A half-caf, almond milk latte with extra foam for you,” he handed a cup to Karen. “And might I add a pleasure to see you again, Miss Page. I feel like I am constantly hearing nothing but wonderful things about you from all the men in my life.” He handed a cup to Foggy. “Double shot caramel macchiato with two pumps of vanilla for Foggy Bear, and,” he pulled another cup out and set it in front of himself “the same for me because damn if that doesn’t sound delicious! And for you,” he handed a cup to Matt, “black as the night sky. I mean, the non-New York night sky because the night sky isn’t that black here, although it’s all black to you and now I think I’m being offensive so here’s your coffee.” 

Matt snorted and smiled up at him. 

Bucky pulled the final cup out of the tray, handing it to Peter. “And here is a hot chocolate with extra whip for the always brave, always super manly, always incredible Spider-Man,” Bucky said, ruffling Peter’s hair. 

“Shut up,” Peter huffed, taking a sip. Suddenly he brightened. “It’s minty!”

“Damn right it’s minty! And also, to everyone, I would like to officially offer my apologies for knowing your coffee orders. I’m sorry I bugged your office and spied on you for almost a month.”

Karen looked back and forth between Bucky and Peter. “Ok, but what’s his deal?” She asked Bucky. “He’s not really Spider-Man, is he?”

“With all due respect, ma’am...”

_ Jesus Christ that charm,  _ Matt thought.  _ I think living with Frank is actively making it worse. _

“...but look at the kid. He’s all skin and bones. Does he look at all capable of being Spider-Man?”

Karen looked at Pete, smiled gently, and shook her head no. 

Peter opened his mouth, then shut it again quickly. 

“Now if you don’t mind,” Bucky continued, checking his watch dramatically, “I have to be on a plane to Symkaria in thirty minutes, and I’d like to spend 25 of those making out with this blind bastard here.”

Karen, Foggy, and Pete all quickly exited Matt’s office. 

“You are the devil, James Buchanan Barnes,” Matt said, standing up from his desk and wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck. 

“Is that so?” Bucky was kissing into Matt’s mouth, biting at his lips, and pressing him back into his desk until Matt had nowhere else to go. “I thought that was you?”

Matt groaned, wantonly grinding himself into Bucky, feeling his heat and hardness through their pants. There wasn’t enough time. There was never enough time for the two of them. “Come back,” he whispered possessively, suddenly better understanding why Claire and Karen had both wanted him to stop. “Come back and let me show you who the devil is.”

Bucky took a step back, looking at Matt curiously. “I’m not actually sure what that’s supposed to mean,” he said with a grin. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Matt replied, sitting up onto the edge of his desk. “But I thought it sounded hot in the moment.”

Bucky kissed him again, gently this time. Matt combed his fingers through Bucky’s hair. The two stayed locked together for several minutes.

“You know, you’re a terrible Catholic,” Bucky said between kisses.

“Oh, believe me,” Matt kissed him back. “I am aware. But I feel very guilty about it and I think that’s the most important thing.”

Bucky smiled at him. “I gotta go, baby. I’ll see you real soon, ok? Stay safe while I’m gone?”

Matt bit his lower lip, then kissed Bucky one last time. “I’ll be waiting.”

***

What was supposed to have been “real soon” ended up being aliens, and now Bucky found himself on the Milano, exhausted, hungry, and filthy, flying back to New York. 

All he wanted was to see Matt. 

He at least needed to shower first.

They hadn’t been allowed to reach out, to send any messages back home, for fear of compromising the mission. Three weeks and he hadn’t been able to talk to Matt once.  _ But Matt understands _ , Bucky told himself.  _ He gets it. He knows how a mission can go. He knows that it’s sometimes not possible to stop, to reach out, even when you really want to. _

He was sure that was why Matt hadn’t reached out to him either.

Bucky sat, staring down blankly at the phone in his hands.

“Why does Bucky not call his new lover?” Thor rumbled from the other side of the plane. “He has spoken of little else for the past three weeks?”

“He’s not my lover,” Bucky snapped back, still staring at his traitorous phone with it’s ‘No New Messages’ display.

“Performance issues?” Rocket smirked, walking over and sitting down next to Bucky. “Don’t worry, man. It happens to everyone. I mean, it doesn’t happen to me, and it certainly doesn’t happen to Thor, but I’m sure Quill will gladly talk to you about his experiences.”

“Shut up!” came the reply from the front of the plane.

“Just use a different word,” Bucky grumbled. “Lover sounds… weird. I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

“Call him, man,” Clint said from where he was sitting next to Peter Quill. “He wants to hear from you. You know he wants to hear from you.” 

Bucky stared at the phone for a minute longer, then pressed the button. It rang.  _ Shit.  _ He wasn’t even sure what time it was in New York.

_ James? _

Matt didn’t sound asleep, so that was a good sign. “Hey. I’m sorry it’s been so long. We weren’t allowed to call out and…”

_ No, no it’s ok. It’s been all over the news the past few days, what you did. It sounds like it was terrible. Are you ok? Are you headed home already? _

Bucky smiled, relief flooding over him. “Yeah, we’re on our way back now. Should be home in an hour or so. I need a shower desperately, but I was hoping after that I could come see you. I miss you.” The last words were almost whispered.

_ Oh. Well… I… _

Bucky felt the panic rising again. “You don’t want to see me?”

_ No, no, of course I want to see you. It’s not that at all. It’s just… I have closing statements for a big case tomorrow, and they’re not fully written yet, and I need to go to bed early and… I’m sorry James. Please don’t read too much into it.  _

“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

_ James, please. I know you’re lying. I can hear your heart… _

“No you fucking can’t, Murdock. Not over the phone. Don’t try to sell me that bullshit.”

Matt was silent.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. You do your job and I’ll do mine and I’ll see you whenever, ok?”

_ James… _

Bucky hung up the phone.

Everyone on the Milano was staring at him.

“Well that was awkward.” Rocket was the one to finally break the silence.

“‘Tis his loss,” Thor added, quietly for Thor. “We shall go back to your residence and consume a great deal of ale and celebrate our victory.”

Bucky nodded. He stared down at his phone.  _ Idiot. Matt’s not yours and you’re not his. You’re not anybody’s. He can do better than a broken ex-assassin who’s three times as strong as he is. Better you’re out of his life so you can’t hurt him in the long run. _ __

“Somebody should warn Frank,” Clint muttered from the front of the plane.

“Yeah, ok,” Bucky stared down at his phone, blinking back tears, and composed a text:

> Headed home. Bringing some people back for drinks. Thor, a d-bag named Quill, a blue lady (Nebula), a murder raccoon, and a tree. Like an actual tree who can walk and sort of talk. Brace yourself. Also go buy beer.

Bucky sent the message, then immediately followed up:

> Buy a ridiculous amount of beer. Decide what the most beer you could possibly ever buy in one sitting might be, and then buy three times that much. I’ll pay you back later. 

Pause. A final message:

> Also lock up all your guns.

Bucky leaned back in his seat, and tried desperately not to think about Matt. 

They landed the Milano on the top of Clint’s apartment building in Bed-Stuy, and Bucky hoped that nobody decided to do some early season grilling. He decided it probably didn’t matter anyway. The residents there were basically used to everything at this point. The fact that Clint had reinforced the roof so that it could hold a spaceship really said everything there was to say.

Frank wasn’t there when they arrived - probably out buying not enough beer - and Clint was playing host, so Bucky took a shower. He was toweling off when he heard Frank start shouting. “What the fuck is that and what is it doing in our apartment?!?!”

Bucky wrapped his towel around his waist and ran into the living room. 

Frank was standing on the kitchen island looking down, terrified, at Rocket.

“Damn, man. That’s rude.” Rocket spat on the floor.

“Aww, carpet…” Clint muttered to himself.

“Frank,” Bucky tried to calm him. “Frank, it’s ok. I warned you.”

“You told me there was going to be a Murder-Raccoon in our apartment, Barnes.” Frank shouted. “I thought that was some sort of old-timey saying. I didn’t take it literally!”

“That’s not a nice thing to call me. I am not a raccoon!”

“Rabbit is very wise,” Thor added from where he was leaning against a wall, smirking at the scene. “Are thou not Frank Castle, the Punisher, one of Midgard’s most vicious warriors? Why art thou afraid of a rabbit?”

“Yeah!” Rocket parroted. “Why art thou afraid of a rabbit? Also, I’m not a rabbit either but whatever. He can call me that. You can’t!” he said pointedly at Frank.

Frank looked at Bucky helplessly. Bucky shrugged. “I gotta go get some pants.” He disappeared into his room. 

When he came back out, things seemed to have settled a little. Frank was standing on the ground behind the kitchen counter, which was much better than on the kitchen counter, and talking to Nebula while still eyeing Rocket suspiciously. Rocket, Groot, and Thor were deep in conversation on the couch. Clint and Quill were standing by the window.

“Where’s Red?” Frank asked casually, taking a beer out of the fridge and holding it out to Bucky.

The room went silent.

Bucky grabbed the beer and drained it in one gulp. It wasn’t going to be enough. Not tonight. “Not coming,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and getting another beer. He hoped Thor was willing to share the good stuff. “Moved on.”

“That…” Frank stared at Bucky with genuine confusion. “That doesn’t sound right. I just saw him day before yesterday. He… He was askin’ bout you. Askin’ if I’d heard anything.”

Bucky shrugged and chugged the second beer. “‘He’s ain’t here, though, is he? Said he ain’t comin’. More important things to do. Thor, you got anything to drink on that ship of yours? I think I wanna get drunk tonight.”

Thor looked at him thoughtfully. “Yes, friend Barnes. Let us get you drunk. Come.” The two men headed out the door and up to the roof.

“It’s actually my ship!” Bucky heard Quill call after them. 

When they returned, the apartment was somber. Thor had a small keg of Asgardian Ale thrown over his shoulder, and Bucky had started drinking while they were still in the ship. It burned his throat. Frank pulled him aside.

“Listen, Bucky, they told me what happened and I think you’ve got it all wrong. Matt’s been working on this really big case. It’s a huge deal; gonna open the way for more farms in the city. You know how food prices are skyrocketing. They’ve been working with the DA’s office and everything, which he said like it meant something. Guess the DA had it in for them in the past? Says it’s gonna put Nelson & Murdock on the map and help him to do some real good.”

Bucky took another swallow of the ale and shrugged, walking away from Frank. This wasn’t what he wanted. If Matt had been telling the truth, if he hadn’t moved on, then Bucky had certainly pushed him away now so what did it matter? And it was better that way. Bucky would always be running off, fighting aliens or evil scientists bent on world destruction. Matt didn’t need that. Strange had even brought up the idea of Matt joining the team, and Bucky knew Matt didn’t want that. Matt needed to be here, in New York, where he could do good as a lawyer first and a vigilante second or maybe, someday, not at all.

Bucky filled up his beer glass with another round of the Asgardian Ale, and then filled a second. He two-fisted his way into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

“You’re a good friend.” Frank looked over to see Rocket staring up at him. “He’s just not ready to hear it yet. He’ll come around.”

Frank nodded. Maybe Thor was right. Maybe Rabbit was very wise.

“You wanna see my guns?” Frank asked him.

Rocket grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pelmeni: A Russian dumpling
> 
> Matt and Bucky clearly have great taste in music. I, however, do not. And while they may now consider That Old Black Magic to be their song, I cannot hear Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber's "I Don't Care" without thinking about them. If you have not watched this video, you should. And yes, I do have a lot of shame endorsing anything Justin Bieber related, but honestly this video is absolutely bonkers and deserves your attention: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y83x7MgzWOA
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading!! Please let me know any thoughts and comments and feedback you have. I know I've said it before, but truthfully your comments and kudos sustain me. THANK YOU!!


	19. Bucky and Matt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just blew past 2000 hits yesterday, which is absolutely crazy to me. Thank you!!

It was four days later when Bucky got a call from Matt. He almost didn’t answer his phone, but he missed Matt and more importantly he wanted to be sure it wasn’t an emergency.

As it turned out, it was.

“Hey… umm…” the voice on the other end of the line was hesitant. “Listen, I hate to ask but I need your help. I found Poindexter and I need some backup. Danny and Colleen and Luke and Jessica are all busy, and Frank isn’t answering…”

 _Fucker called everyone else before me,_ Bucky couldn’t help but thinking.

The line was silent.

“You know what, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll go. I can handle…”

“No.” Bucky interrupted, his voice sounding angrier than he meant it to. “No, I’ll be there. Just send me the address, ok? When are you…?”

“I’m there now,” Matt replied.

“Fuck. Of course you are. Ok, send me your location. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Bucky hung up the phone and started slipping knives into his pockets. His phone dinged with the location. _Hell’s Kitchen, of course._ It would take him at least 20 minutes to get there. He strapped Deloris to his back and headed out the door.

It was twilight when he arrived, and of course Matt had started without him. He did seem to have it under control, however, and Bucky allowed himself the luxury of standing and watching. 

Matt had apparently pulled Poindexter out of the building, and was with him now in the dimly lit alley. About thirty bodies lay on the ground surrounding them. Bucky stood, transfixed, watching as Matt punched the man over and over until Poindexter stopped moving. Matt stood up, heaving. His back was to Bucky, and Bucky watched his shoulders rise and fall. From that angle, Bucky could see only that Matt’s knuckles were bleeding. Bucky couldn’t see his face. Matt was standing, though, so Bucky figured he was probably at least mostly ok. Matt cocked his head. Listening. Smelling the air, like a predator hunting prey. A chill ran down Bucky’s spine.

Two lackeys started rising from where they were laying at Matt’s feet. Bucky couldn’t tell if they were Hand or not. He shot them in the kneecaps, just to be safe.  

Matt nodded, back still facing Bucky. “That’s all of them. Cops are on their way.”

Bucky couldn’t hear the sirens. “How long we got?” 

“Two minutes. Maybe three. Traffic is real bad on 50th.”

“We should go then.”

“The roofs,” Matt’s voice was low and gruff. It made Bucky shiver. “It’s safer. Too many people might see us on the ground. Plus from there we can make sure nobody wakes up before the cops get here.”

Bucky nodded. “Fire escape?”

Matt paused, finally turning to face Bucky. “Yeah. Sure… Or… Never mind.”

“Just say it.”

Bucky watched Matt set his jaw. “I got a better way. Less evidence of where we’ve been. But you might not want...” 

“I can handle it.” 

Bucky felt Matt assessing him for a moment, watched Matt listening to him, smelling him, whatever the hell else the man did to judge whether or not someone was lying. Bucky stood firm, trying to keep his heart from racing. 

Matt put his hands out in front of him, palms forward. “Nobody said you couldn’t handle it. I’m not trying to put words in your mouth. I just want to be sure…”

“Don’t fucking lawyer me, Murdock,” Bucky spat at him. “You’re wasting time you said we didn’t have.” 

“Fine.” Matt threw one of his batons, a thin wire streaming behind it. It wrapped around a beam at the top of a nearby building. “Hold on,” he told Bucky, holding out an arm. 

Bucky stepped close, hesitating for just a moment before wrapping his flesh arm around Matt’s shoulders. He heard Matt breathe in, just once, before Matt pulled his free hand tightly around Bucky's waist, and then pushed the button on the baton he still held in his hand. The wire retracted and the two flew up to the top of the building. 

Bucky's eyes went wide. Matt released Bucky the moment their feet were on the roof, taking two steps back. He bit his lip, turning slightly away from Bucky. Bucky knew Matt could hear how hard his heart was pounding. 

My god he missed this man. _Fuck it,_ Bucky thought. _It’s now or never._ “What are you, like a goddamn super hero or something?” he asked, his voice still harsher than he wanted. 

“Or something,” Matt smiled at him, weakly. 

“How come I didn’t know you could do that?”

“I’m very modest. And kind of an ass. I’m sorry, James I...”

“No. I’m sorry.” Bucky cut him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Bucky paused, questioning his next words. He didn’t want to come off as rude, to make things worse, but… “I’ve never seen you win before.”

“What? Really? That doesn’t sound right.”

Bucky shook his head. “Nope. Pretty sure I’ve only seen you get your ass handed to you.” Bucky couldn’t help but joke. Being around Matt felt so comfortable, despite the tension between them.

“Well it is about 50/50.” Matt’s smile seemed more genuine. 

The cops pulled up below. Once it was clear neither Poindexter nor his lackeys were in any condition to fight back, the two men began to walk away.

“Listen I’m sorry I bothered you,” Matt spoke first. “I didn’t expect it to be that easy. I caught him off guard.”  
  
“That was easy?”

“Yeah. I mean the last time I faced Poindexter…” Matt trailed off. The two walked in silence for a moment longer.

“You look good winning,” Bucky said abruptly, stopping Matt and grabbing him by the hand. 

Matt lifted Bucky’s hand to his lips and kissed it cautiously. “You look good always.”

“You don’t know what I look like!”

“Well, I have it on good authority.”

Bucky stared at Matt who stood there, perfectly still, afraid to move. “Can you forgive me?” Bucky asked after a moment.

Matt laughed, pulling off his mask. He took Bucky’s face into his hands. “Did you forget? That’s what I do,” Matt replied, pressing his lips gently into Bucky’s.

He pulled away. “What about me, though. James, I should have come when you called. You needed me. Can you forgive me?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nothin’ to forgive, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t listen.” He snaked an arm around Matt’s waist, trying to pull him deeper, but Matt stopped him. 

“We can’t.” Matt said, sadly. “Not here. We’ve got to go. Someone could see.” Matt put his mask back on. “Plus, you’ve got a party to go to, don’t you?”

“You know about that?” Bucky asked.

“Of course,” Matt answered, frowning. “It’s your birthday. Pete told me. I wasn’t going to go, because… well… you know. But I don’t have any plans and… if you wanted…”

“Very much. Please.”

 

***

 

Crowds were always a challenge for Matt, but nothing he couldn’t handle - it was just hard to keep track of everything at once. It was one of the reasons he used the cane even when he was only around people who knew about Daredevil. Foggy assumed that the cane was an act, but it definitely was not. Keeping track of his surroundings the other way was hard work, and Matt appreciated the rest when he could get it.

Even with the cane, being here with the Avengers was A Lot.

First and foremost, the building had weird machinery that threw out some unusual and surprisingly loud background noise. Adding to that, nobody felt or sounded or smelled quite right. There were little clues that helped him recognize people, and that was great, but his brain never had time to relax. James was easy. Outside of his arm, there was his scent and his unique heartbeat and the sound of his enhanced muscles. Matt could recognize James anywhere. James was quiet and comforting. Being close to him tended to drown everything else out.

The Hulk was big and loud and hot. His muscles were thick and sinewy like stainless steel wire rope. They criss-crossed his body in an inhuman way. Matt could feel them vibrating across his back and down his legs, seemingly without pattern or structure, just a knot of muscle straining at the seams. And when he moved, they gave off almost a musical tone. Matt wanted to say it was unlike anything he had heard before, but that wasn’t quite true. He’d heard it once before, in the limo on New Year’s Eve. He hadn’t been able to place it at the time, and now he wondered. Clint had a faint electrical whining around him, which Matt had learned was from a hearing aid. Thor was distractingly loud. Matt couldn’t begin to break down what was happening with the Asguardian, and it hurt his head to focus on him too long. T’Challa was similar to James in that his nervous system seemed enhanced, although it sounded quite different. Where James was solid and hardened, his strength radiating from him, T’Challa was fluid and shifting. He was dotted with vibranium, and his entire body seemed to have taken on some of the metal’s absorptive qualities. Matt had gotten used to Pete and, like James, he was familiar and comforting. He was another strong one - maybe stronger than James, even - and Matt could almost feel the radiation that pulsed through his veins, like an itch crawling over his skin. 

Wanda hurt too, although not as much as Thor. Her heartbeat sounded unstable, as if it flickered in and out of Matt’s perception. She reminded him of Dr. Strange in some ways, being both there and not there at the same time. Every now and then, heat radiated from her fingertips in long strings interweaving and stretching outward into the room. Finally there was Carol, who Matt was surprised to learn was even human. Energy radiated from her, but an unworldly energy, cold and silent and powerful. Finally, Scott seemed to be just a normal guy. Matt wasn’t quite sure what was going on there.

Matt liked Scott, though, which is why he felt bad right now. The man had been explaining… something? And Matt had not been paying attention. He heard Scott pause, waiting for a response.

“You with me, man?” Scott asked.

Matt shook his head, forcing a laugh. “Apparently not.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.” Scott’s voice was kind. “I’m still shocked every time they invite me over to hang. No way am I good enough for this!”

“The way James tells it, you were the one who defeated Thanos.”

Matt felt Scott blush. “Aww, no man. It was nothing like that. I had a dumb idea. These geniuses...” he gestured around the room and his voice suddenly cracked. “Well, I guess the main genius…” Scott trailed off again.

Matt put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know.” Scott sniffed once, and Matt smiled. There was nothing more to say. “I’m going to go find James,” Matt excused himself.

“Yeah, man.”

Matt walked to where he could hear and smell James sitting on the couch, talking to the green flame that was Hulk. They were deep in a conversation about tacos, and they didn’t notice Matt standing there. 

There was something sitting on the couch next to James. Matt had no clue what it could be. It was hot, and felt like staring directly into the sun. It crackled with electricity. He had noticed it since they had walked into the room - since before that, actually. How could he not. It was loud, like a freight train or a sustained thunder clap. As they walked up to Avengers headquarters, after Bucky had parked his motorcycle, Matt had stopped. He told James that he thought there might be a bomb inside the building. James had paused just for a moment, then he had smiled at Matt. _There was no way_ , he’d explained. _Friday would know._ That being said, there was a lot of weird stuff in that building, and he wouldn’t be surprised if some of it felt like a bomb. Maybe they even did have a bomb, but if they did it was their bomb and it wasn’t going to go off without warning. 

This was clearly The Thing That Was Not A Bomb. It must not be a bomb, if it was sitting on the couch like that out in the open. Nobody acknowledged it or tried to move it, even though it was clearly in the way.

Specifically, it was in his way. Matt wanted to sit next to James. He wanted James to wrap him up in his arms and help things be quiet for just a minute. He wasn’t sure if they were back to that yet, but he wanted it anyway.

The Thing That Was Not A Bomb had what appeared to be a handle coming out of the top. The Maybe-A-Handle was wood, although not a wood Matt recognized, with what appeared to be a leather strap wrapped around it. The Maybe-A-Handle wasn’t hot. Matt thought he could touch it without hurting himself. 

He reached over, picked up The Thing That Was Not A Bomb, and placed it on the ground. 

The room went silent.

Matt sat down on the couch next to James.

James jumped away from his touch.

Matt was confused.

“How… how…” Bucky stuttered. 

The Hulk whistled, low and deep.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” Clint exclaimed from across the room. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Matt had no idea what was going on. He felt very uncomfortable. He wished someone would explain it to him.

“Hallway. Now!”

James was loud. His voice was shaking. His heart was pounding. Other hearts in the room were pounding too. Matt knew he had done something really, really wrong, but he still wasn’t sure what. He followed James into the hallway, head down. _We just fixed things. Things were just starting ok again, and I fucked up again._ James was walking fast, and Matt followed a few steps behind, neither of them speaking, until they reached a door. 

“Inside,” Bucky said roughly, pushing the door open. 

“James, I just wanted to sit…” Matt tried to explain. “I didn’t mean to do anything.” He took a moment, surprised, to assess where they were. An apartment. It smelled like James. There were records, some old books, a locked closet full of knives and guns. James’s apartment? Did James have an apartment here? Matt supposed that made sense. “What’s happening?” He asked. 

“I am about to fuck your brains out, that’s what’s happening,” Bucky said, pushing Matt into the bedroom. “Now take your goddamned clothes off.”

Matt blinked at him in shock and disbelief. 

“Do I have to tell you twice?” Bucky growled at him.

“No. God no. Of course not,” Matt replied, pulling off his shirt and starting to unbutton his pants. 

Bucky was on him immediately, pushing him down onto the bed. “Here I am all worried about hurting you and then you go and pull a stunt like that.” He bit down on Matt’s neck, hard, and Matt wailed with pleasure. Matt’s hands scrambled at Bucky’s back, pushing shirt up and off, then his hands went down, pushing off Bucky’s pants. Matt could feel Bucky pushed up against him, already rock hard, and he tried to squeeze his hand between their bodies, desperate to touch him. 

“How does this work for you?” Matt asked, brain struggling to form words. “Your enhancements. Do they… can you…”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I don’t have to, but I can usually go three or four times.”

“Good,” Matt said, stroking Bucky in earnest. “God you feel so good. I just want to touch you. Please, James. Please can I just touch you?”

Bucky couldn’t answer. He was too gone with Matt’s hands all over him. It was like Matt instinctively knew every place to touch him, knew exactly where to apply pressure and how much. _Magic fingers,_ he reminded himself.  Bucky’s cock was leaking and Matt gathered up the wetness, using it to slick his hand, gripping and twisting and sliding over Bucky. Matt’s other hand was roaming Bucky’s body, tracing the lines of his abs and pinching his nipples and rolling his balls. Never the same. Never where expected but always right where Bucky hadn’t quite yet realized he needed to be touched. And then Bucky was coming harder than he could remember ever coming before, and Matt was still there, stroking him through it, and even in that moment where it should have been too much, where everything should have been too sensitive, Matt’s hands were still everything he needed and nothing he didn’t. 

“Was that good?” Matt asked quietly. 

Bucky snorted, opening his eyes and looking at Matt who was smiling smugly. “‘Was that good,’ he asks. What does my heartbeat tell you?”

“Tells me it was good,” Matt said, sitting up to bite at Bucky’s lower lip. “It’s still nice to hear you say it.”

“It was good, baby. It was so fucking good.” Matt was still touching him, gently, insistently, and Bucky could feel himself getting hard again. He pulled away and Matt whimpered. “Just hold on, ok? I’m not going anywhere.” He moved to the bedside table and retrieved a bottle of lube. “I promised you that I was going to fuck your brains out and I plan on keeping that promise. How are you still wearing pants?” 

Matt groaned and kicked his pants off, and Bucky settled between his legs. “You ok with this?” Bucky asked, running his hand up and down the inside of Matt’s thigh. 

Matt nodded, panted, “Jesus, yes James. More than ok. Please. Please.”

“I like it when you beg,” Bucky murmured down at him. “Ok. Since you asked so nice, I’ll give you the choice. I’m gonna open you up. Get you ready for me. But you get to pick. Which hand do you want me to use?”

Matt’s entire body shook and he gasped, gripping the sheets of the bed firmly in both hands. His cock twitched so hard that Bucky was afraid he might come just thinking about it. “Oh shit, James, fuck i want that so bad but I can’t… it’ll be too much. I don’t think I can take it.”

“Hmmm….” Bucky frowned down at him. “That wasn’t the answer I expected, honestly. But that’s ok, sweetheart. We’ll do it your way, this time.” Bucky spread the lube over the fingers of his flesh hand. He leaned in, whispering. “But you better figure out what you need to do to get ready for that, because it’s happening baby boy. Not today, but soon. I want to hear you scream.” Matt shuddered again as Bucky ran his finger around the rim of his tight opening. “Shit you’re so pretty.” Bucky pressed a finger into Matt, down to his first knuckle. “I don’t know which I believe less: that you're finally here or that it took so long for me to get you like this.” Bucky pressed in further. Matt whimpered. “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you, baby? You feel everything so hard. Wanna make you feel everything.” Bucky pushed a second finger in, stroking Matt from the inside. 

Matt cried out wordlessly as Bucky’s fingers brushed his prostate. 

“You ready for me, baby?” Bucky asked. “I’ve waited too long already. I don’t wanna wait any longer.

“I’m ready. Please, James. I’m ready.”

Bucky slicked himself up and lined up with where his fingers had just left. “Can you hear how much I want you?” he asked, as he started to press in.

“Can hear it,” Matt gaped. “Can feel it. Can smell it. Can taste it! God, James, please! Stop moving so slowly!”

Bucky smiled but didn’t move any faster. He kept pressing into Matt, slowly, until he finally felt his hips bump up against Matt’s ass. Matt groaned as Bucky leaned forward to kiss him. “Why did this take us so long?” he whispered.

“‘Cause we’re a couple of idiots,” Matt replied with a laugh.

“Hmmm…” Bucky started to move. “You’re not an idiot. From what I hear, you’re kind of a genius lawyer. Not me,” he started moving faster. Harder. “I’m just a dumb soldier, here to take orders. You wanna order me around, baby?” He reached down and grabbed Matt’s cock, stroking in rhythm with his thrusts. Matt’s eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned out in pleasure, brain unable to form words. “No? No orders for me? I’ll just have to do what I think you’d want, then. Smart guy like you, probably knows exactly what he wants. I’d hate to get it wrong.” Bucky leaned forward and licked a line from Matt’s nipple up his neck, nipping at his ear. Matt cried out again. “Am I getting it wrong?” Bucky whispered in Matt’s ear.

Matt shook his head, aggressively, no.  

“That’s what I thought. God, I want to make you feel so much.” Bucky took his vibranium hand and gently brushed it over Matt’s chest and that was all it took. Matt was shaking and coming and calling out Bucky’s name. Bucky felt Matt clench down around him, and then he was coming too. He collapsed on top of Matt, carefully moving his arm to be sure it wasn’t touching Matt anymore. 

The two lay like that for a long time before Bucky rolled off of Matt and pulled him in close, wrapping his flesh arm around Matt’s chest. He kissed the back of Matt’s neck, and Matt sighed deeply. “You’re missing your party.” 

“Party’s right here.”

“Mmm... “ Matt snuggled deeper into his arms. “I love how your heart sounds.” They were quiet again.

“We could go back, if you wanted.” Bucky suggested. “I don’t need to, and you know I’m not lying. But if you wanted… you hardly got to meet anybody.”

Matt smiled. “I’d need to take a shower,” he said, touching his stomach. “I’m gross. Besides,” he paused for a moment, biting his lower lip. “You said three or four. That was only two.” 

Bucky rolled Matt over so he could look into the man’s face. He picked up Matt’s hand and held it to his heart. “You don’t have to do that,” he said quietly. 

“I know you’re telling the truth,” Matt said. “But what if I want to?”

Bucky shook his head. He could feel the guilt creeping in again; the voice telling him that he wasn’t good enough for Matt, that Matt was going to get tired of him, that he needed too much. 

“Hey!” Matt said, shaking him. “Look at me. Are you looking?” Bucky forced himself to stare up into Matt’s unfocused eyes. “You want an order? Get in the shower with me. Come on. Let’s go.” He stood up, pulling Bucky with him.

Bucky followed, the voice in his head still telling him that he was asking too much. That he didn’t deserve it. He guided Matt into the bathroom and turned on the shower, adjusting the water temperature. Matt stepped in and rinsed himself off, then pulled Bucky into the shower and began to wash him. Bucky was once again and almost immediately overwhelmed by the perfection of Matt’s touch. Nothing was misplaced. Nothing was extra. Nothing was missed. Matt moved behind him, running his hands down Bucky’s back and around his waist, pulling Bucky in close to him. Matt nibbled on Bucky’s ear and his hands drifted down, wrapping themselves again around Bucky’s cock. Bucky gasped, all ability to protest draining out of him. Matt moved slower this time, and Bucky could feel each individual finger, tapping and twisting and working into him. Matt gently kissed along Bucky’s neck, using his free hand to hold aside Bucky’s hair and massage his scalp. In minutes, Bucky found himself bracing his arms against the shower wall and coming again, as Matt whispered how good he was in his ear.

Then Matt was kissing down his spine and around his waist, holding on to his hips, lowering himself to his knees in front of Bucky in the shower. “You got one more?” he asked, holding his face up to Bucky, the water streaming over him. He looked dark and beautiful and radiant, as he licked his lips devilishly. 

“Matt,” Bucky gasped, his body giving him away. “It’s too much. You shouldn’t hafta…”

“Hafta?” Matt questioned, parroting Bucky’s Brooklyn drawl. He shook his head, still face up to Bucky, his eyes blinking out, unfocused, from under his dark eyelashes. “Goddammit, James, you have no idea, do you? How could you? The way you sound… I wish you could hear it. I don’t ‘hafta” anything and I know it. But I would listen to the noises you make a hundred times a day, every day, for the rest of my life if you’d let me. ‘Hafta,’ he says. As if it were him getting the better end of this deal and not me.” And then Matt’s mouth was on him, and Bucky felt like he was falling because Matt’s tongue knew just as many secrets as his fingers did, and his stubble was rough on Bucky’s thighs, and his hands were kneading Bucky’s ass. Bucky stroked Matt’s hair gently, carefully to not interfere with what Matt was doing. Matt didn’t need any direction. He seemed to purr around Bucky’s dick and it was all too much, and Bucky was coming again, and then his knees gave out and he was collapsing to the floor where Matt held him - him! the Winter Soldier! - as if he were very small and precious. Matt combed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and kissed him once, gently, on the forehead. “Every day,” he whispered. “For the rest of my life. Just to hear you make that noise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, do I spend a lot of time just sitting around, thinking about how good Matt would be with his magic fingers?
> 
> ... yes. Yes I do.
> 
> This was very sweet and fluffy and I'm sorry if it gave you a toothache. But when the idea of writing this popped into my head, I said something to FajitaShowboat. They replied (and I wrote it down): "Just have somebody take care of Bucky. Bucky deserves to be taken care of." And that has been my goal throughout. I could see these two getting darker with each other (Matt is an A+ Masochist, after all), but not in this story. If you need something dark, I have some recommendations...
> 
> Thanks, thanks, THANKS to HaniTrash, Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat.
> 
> Also...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Update 8/6/19
> 
> I had some MAJOR flaws in Matt's describing the Avengers. I am ashamed of the choices I made, and I appreciate my unacceptably abelist language being brought to my attention. I have updated this section, and I like it so much better. Thank you to those individuals who pointed it out to me for making me a better writer.


	20. Matt and Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello this has become nothing but sweet, fluffy smut and I don't care. Enjoy!!
> 
> Thanks to HaniTrash, Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat!!

Matt woke up slowly. Normally, he would find waking up in a strange place jarring - frightening even. It always took a moment for his senses to catch up with his brain when he woke up, and being in a strange place made it challenging to get his bearings. 

But not this time. This time, Matt knew exactly where he was and why he was there. His back was pressed up against James’s chest, and he could feel James’s heartbeat ringing through his entire body. James’s arm was draped over him, and he suspected that, under any other circumstances, he would feel extremely claustrophobic. 

But not now.

Everything about James felt amazing, and Matt wondered if there was anyone else alive who could make him feel safe and small and protected. For just a second he wondered how anyone could have ever let this go, but he pushed the thought quickly aside. He was thankful. He wished James had never gotten hurt, because he was pretty sure he loved this man, but at the same time every hurt had brought James one step closer to him. So what if it meant his childhood hero was an idiot. 

Matt wished he could lie there forever, tangled up with James, listening to him breathe and feeling his pulse radiate through every inch of his being. But he couldn’t. Mostly because he really had to pee. 

Super slowly, and super carefully, he untangled himself from Bucky’s arms, sliding out from under the covers. Bucky snorted and shifted slightly, and Matt found himself holding his breath until Bucky settled and fell back asleep.

Matt exhaled, felt over the bedside table for his phone, and snuck into the bathroom.

“What’s the time?” Matt whispered into the phone.

‘It is currently 7:14 am’ came the computerized reply.

_ Not bad,  _ Matt thought. He certainly wasn’t an early riser by any definition of the term, so that was early enough that Foggy wouldn’t be looking for him yet.

Matt snuck back out of the bathroom and began to look for his clothes without success. In the end, he settled for a pair of pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt that he found on a shelf in Bucky’s closet. The shirt had buttons on the collar. He could tell the pants had some sort of pattern on them, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Polka dots, maybe? Matt didn’t care. They were both soft and smelled like Bucky and, while he could hear movement in the building, there didn’t appear to be anyone else on this floor so he figured it probably didn’t matter much what he was wearing anyway. Matt made sure the door was unlocked, then slipped out into the hallway and sat down on the floor to call Foggy.  

_ Matt? _

“Yeah, man. Sorry. Did I wake you?

_ No. No, I’m up. What’s wrong. Is everything ok? I saw that Poindexter got caught last night. Was that you? Are you hurt? Do I need to come get you somewhere? _

Matt laughed. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry. I’m just not at home and I won’t be at home or in the office all day today so I wanted to let you know so you didn’t worry about me.”

A brief pause, then:  _ Ok. So where are you? Was that you, with Poindexter? _

“It was, buddy. Yeah.”

“ _ Where are you, then?” _

“Well… so James showed up and helped me…”

Matt could hear Foggy jump out of bed and rush into the other room, presumably in order to avoid waking Marci.  _ Tell me where you are! Are you with him?  _

Matt smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m with him.” 

_ Hell yeah! And all is good? _

“Yeah. All is good. I should go, though. I’m kind of hiding in the hallway so I don’t wake him up.”

_ Oh, of course, right! No, you should go. Take the day off. Hell, take the week off! We don’t have anything going on that Karen and I can’t handle. _

Matt laughed again. “I don’t need a week, Foggy. I’ll be in tomorrow, ok?”

_ Ok, but if you’re not I won’t worry. _

“Thanks man.” Matt hung up the phone. He sat back against the wall and grinned to himself.

Matt had been so distracted by the phone call, and by listening to Bucky’s breathing on the other side of the door, that he hadn’t noticed the stranger approach. When the man cleared his throat, Matt jumped. “Oh, hey sorry. I didn’t notice you there.” Matt tried to laugh it off. “It’s not polite to sneak up on a blind man, you know?”

“Yeah,” the man responded. His voice sounded sad but kind. “I suppose you’re right. But from what I hear, you’re not exactly a blind man.”

“Oh, well…” Matt suddenly felt uncomfortable. He stood up and held out his hand. “Matt Murdock. Pleased to meet you…”

“Is Bucky still asleep?” the man asked, shaking Matt’s hand. His grip was strong and his hand was leathered. Matt was having a hard time placing the man’s age from his heartbeat. He seemed older, but in good shape. His voice sounded oddly familiar. Matt suspected the man had been out jogging, or at least for a brisk walk, but he couldn’t be sure. Nothing about this guy was quite right. 

“Yeah, he’s still sleeping,” Matt answered. “Can I help you with something?”

The man was silent for a minute, thinking. Finally he answered, “Yeah. Yeah I think you can. Just, take care of him, ok?”

Matt blinked, confused. “Take care of James?” he asked. “I mean, sure. But he can take care of himself, you know?”

The man laughed. “Yeah, I know. But he shouldn’t have to. He’s done that for too long.” The man turned and started to walk away. “Just take care of him, ok?” He stepped onto the elevator. “And change your pants. Buck won’t like those. Wish him a happy birthday for me!”

The elevator door closed. Matt heard the elevator speed away before he had a chance to ask again for the man’s name.

_ This place is so strange,  _ Matt thought, slipping back into the apartment. He paused for a moment, getting his bearings. It was an open concept living area, and he could sense the kitchen directly to his left. He moved towards it, then stumbled slightly as his feet tangled in something.  _ Nice, Murdock,  _ he thought to himself.  _ First somebody sneaks up on you, and now you’ve got two left feet?  _ He reached down to pick up the offending item.  _ Oh, pants! _

Matt pulled off the pajama pants and slipped on his own. He carefully folded Bucky’s pants and placed them on the counter.  _ Ok,  _ he thought.  _ If I was a fancy Avengers coffee machine, where would I be?  _ He let his fingers trace the counter, finding what he needed. A french press, a kettle to boil water. A package of beans in the freezer. A coffee grinder that he hoped was on something like the right setting. He found a pantry with glass jars and opened them one at a time, smelling the contents, until he found sugar.

When Matt heard Bucky’s breath begin to change about thirty minutes later, he poured him a mug of coffee, added three scoops of sugar, and headed back into the bedroom, slipping Bucky’s pants carefully back into the closet as he went.

“Hey,” Matt said, setting the mug down on the bedside table and snuggling into bed next to Bucky, who was just starting to open his eyes.

“Hey yourself,” Bucky said back, wrapping his arms around Matt. He frowned. “What’s with the clothes? Is that my shirt?” He started to pull it off of Matt. “I just want to be clear, it’s not that I have a problem with you wearing my shirt, so much as I have a problem with you wearing anything.”

“I called Foggy so he wouldn’t worry,” Matt said, allowing the shirt to be pulled off. Bucky gently pushed him down so he was lying on the bed. “Stepped out into the hallway so I wouldn't wake you. Good thing I got dressed, too. Somebody stopped by to wish you a happy birthday. I’m sorry; I didn’t catch his name.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s not important.” He traced a vibranium finger down Matt’s chest, stopping at the waistband of Matt’s pants and giving them a little tug. “How many times do I have to tell you to take these off, Murdock?”

Matt tried to say something witty in return, but it was clear his brain had stopped working again. Bucky pulled his pants off, and Matt heard them go flying across the room.  _ James and I need to have a conversation about how I actually am blind and need my things to be where I have some chance of finding them.   _

“So here’s what I was thinking, after our little chat last night.” Bucky had stood up and was walking to retrieve his coffee, all while keeping his vibranium fingers lightly tracing over Matt’s chest. “You remember our chat, right? After I gave you a very important choice and you picked… Well, I won’t say wrong. But disappointingly?” Bucky took a sip of the coffee and smiled. “So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to sit like this - just like this - until you can carry on a conversation with me, ok?” Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand flat, palm down, on Matt’s chest. 

Matt tried to breathe deeply, to control his heart rate, to meditate like he had been taught. He let the vibrations of Bucky’s arm wash over him. He tried to focus on just one sensation at a time. He felt the hand, cooler than expected, slightly below room temperature, on his chest.  _ Start there,  _ he thought.  _ Focus on it. Cool. Not cold. Maybe 67 degrees? 68? Ok, Matt. You’ve got this.  _ “I had a lot of fun at your party last night,” Matt said, his voice breaking twice. “I liked…” He stopped, the vibrations overwhelming him again. It felt as if the arm were trying to pull him in.  _ Focus.  _ “I liked meeting your friends.”

“Good,” Bucky encouraged him. “You’re doing so good.” Bucky took his hand and moved it down Matt’s side, tracing over Matt’s hip bone and coming to rest on his inner thigh. “Who did you talk to?”

“I…” Matt gasped. Tears filled his eyes.  _ Count the plates, _ he told himself.  _ Feel the seams between the plates. How do they shift? How does the empty space sound different than the vibranium?  _ Matt drew himself in. He focused. It was like searching for a single, unique heartbeat in all of New York city. It was difficult, but he could do it. “I talked... to Scott. He’s... nice… I...”  _ Count the plates, Matt. How do they slide? What moves them? What’s underneath them.  _ The arm’s vibrations filled his entire body. There was nothing else. Matt couldn’t move. He couldn’t make his lips form words. It was too much. The arm was burning him. It was going to pull him in and there would be nothing left.  _ No!  _ Matt’s brain screamed at him.  _ The heartbeat. Focus on the heartbeat. _

Matt tried to block out the vibranium entirely. Was it too late? His brain screamed at his body that it wasn’t. That he could do this. That he needed to do this. Needed to show James how good he could be. He listened. Focused. There, deep and constant, was James’s heartbeat. Matt clung to it. It was familiar and comforting. Suddenly, the arm didn’t feel like a foreign object anymore. It wasn’t The Arm, it was James’s arm. It was a part of James and James was perfect and Matt was going to be ok. 

“And I talked to Steven and Peter Quill and Pete, after we went back.” His voice wasn’t as strong as he might have liked it to be, but it was clear and it was his. “Peter Quill made a crude joke about us, but then he felt embarrassed. He’s maybe not so bad. Pete’s going to tell Foggy and Karen about Spider-Man.”

Matt could feel Bucky smiling down on him. “Is he, now? They’re not going to believe him.”

“Not after that stunt you pulled with the coffee,” Matt agreed. He was feeling stronger, like he could focus. “James, can I ask you a question?”

“Oh, he thinks he can ask a question. I don’t know, Matty. CAN you ask a question?” Bucky emphasized the ‘can’ as if he were a teacher correcting a student’s grammar.

“Last night, I…” Bucky began to stroke Matt’s cock, gently. Matt’s eyes rolled back and he grabbed onto the bed pillows with white knuckles. “Fuck, James. Please.”

“Please what? More, or less.”

“I don’t know. Both. Just… Oh, God don’t stop.”

Bucky grinned. “CAN you ask a question?”

“Last night,” Matt was panting. He could not remember ever having been this hard in his entire life. “Last night,” he gasped. “I did something. It scared you. It scared everyone. That thing I moved off the couch. What was it?”

Bucky let go of Matt.

“Please don’t stop,” Matt cried. 

“Oh, baby boy. My sweet baby boy, I’m not going to stop.” Matt’s senses were spinning. He was vaguely aware of James moving away from him, and back again. He thought he heard the sound of a bottle opening. “You really don’t know what that was? What happened?”

Matt shook his head ‘no.’ He felt James’s fingers, cool and slicked, as they began to work into him. He arched his back and clenched the pillows harder, trying to will his body to relax. He felt James’s face move close to his, comforting him. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. You’ve got this. I’ve got you.” Bucky leaned in and kissed Matt and pushed in deeper. Matt felt as if his entire body were filled with vibranium. There was nothing but James outside of him, and nothing but vibranium inside him, and he belonged to James and everything was perfect. He smelled old leather and the streets of Brooklyn in the 30s and Wakandan grasses and just a hint of ice. His entire body hummed. And behind everything, he heard James’s heartbeat, strong and steady. “My god, look at you,” Bucky whispered, and Matt was coming and his skin was hot and James’s hand was cool and he wasn’t sure which way was up or down. 

Bucky lay next to Matt, watching him pant and gasp as he recovered. Bucky smiled. He wished he could see what Matt saw, wished he could understand what Matt was feeling in this moment, but watching him like this was the next best thing. Matt’s eyes were wide, flitting back and forth across the ceiling. His face was flushed and sweat had gathered on his strong chest, making him shine. Bucky gathered Matt up into his arms and held him close, gently stroking his hair. He understood, then, what Matt had meant in the shower.  _ Every day,  _ he thought.  _ For the rest of my life. To see you look like this.  _

“That thing you moved off the couch,” Bucky whispered, as Matt’s eyelashes fluttered and he started to come back to reality. “That thing was Thor’s hammer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few thoughts:
> 
> 1\. WARNING!!!! THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, WHICH I PLAN ON POSTING SHORTLY!!! Please read at your own risk. If you don't want to read the spoilers, stop when Matt and Bucky start walking back to Hell's Kitchen.
> 
> 2\. Matt is wearing this shirt because why not? And also Captain America pants, but fortunately Bucky never sees those.


	21. Post Credit Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN FAR FROM HOME!!!! IF YOU HAVE NOT YET SEEN THAT MOVIE, PLEASE STOP READING WHEN THE BOYS START WALKING BACK TO HELL'S KITCHEN!!!!!!
> 
> Also one final round of love and thanks and everything I have to offer to HaniTrash, Treetop_Nymph, ArcticThor, and FajitaShowboat. You four are everything.

Matt Murdock was in a terrific mood which, if he was being honest with himself, wasn’t a state of being that he was very used to. He was far past the point in the relationship where he usually fucked things up. He and James had fallen apart and come back together again and things were going almost frighteningly well. The firm was succeeding without help from the Stark Foundation, and Foggy was considering an actual run for District Attorney. Marci thought he might win.

He and James held hands as they walked through Times Square. Generally, as true New Yorkers, neither of them would be caught dead in Times Square if they could help it, but today was different. 

The Smithsonian had created a pop-up exhibit - a tribute to Steve Rogers. It opened today, and Bucky needed to be there. He was giving a speech, which was another thing Matt could hardly believe. 

But there they were, and James was kissing Matt and heading up onto the stage. Matt stood off to the side of the stage with Foggy and Karen.

“Steve Rogers was my best friend,” Bucky said through the microphone, and the crowd stilled and went quiet. Matt heard their expectant heartbeats and a few stray whispers. A baby cried. “You all know that part of the story. He was my best friend, and I loved him. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for this country, including giving his life. He was kind and generous and he never stopped fighting. Not until… well, not until he did.” Matt felt tears prick at his eyes. He smelled salt from the crowd. Bucky’s heartbeat was calm. 

“But Steve Rogers wasn’t a perfect man. He was, like any of us, a man who lived his life as best as he could, and who made mistakes. The difference with Steve,” Bucky smiled, and Matt heard his heart skip. Not a lie. Just nervous energy. “Is that his mistakes seemed to make things better, too.”

Matt could feel himself blushing.

After the speech, Matt followed the sound of Bucky as he worked his way through the crowd. Matt knew it was nerve wracking for him, being around all those people, being the center of attention, but Bucky’s heart stayed calm as he shook hands with people in the audience. Then, Matt heard Bucky’s heart spike. “Something’s happening,” he said, reaching out to grab Foggy’s hand. “Can you see him?” 

Foggy shook his head. “I can’t. Not from this angle. What is it?”

Matt reached out with his senses, trying to assess the hoard of people around Bucky. There, just a few feet away from James… Matt wasn’t sure who it was. An older man. The man reached out, and Bucky hesitated momentarily and then leaned in and hugged him. “Thank you,” the man whispered. “Thank you for everything, Buck.” 

Matt felt his heart dropping in his chest. It was the same man. The man from the hallway. Matt didn’t recognize him at the time, but now. He felt so foolish. How could he have missed it? Their heartbeats. The sound of their muscles. Different, but somehow the same. He could hear the two of them walking towards him, hand in hand. Matt wanted to run, but there were crowds all around him and nowhere to go. He froze, fists clenched at his side, as if he was going to fight both of them at once. Sooner than seemed possible, considering the crowds, they were standing in front of him. Bucky was smiling. 

“Hey, Matt. So, this might be awkward, but there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

“Yeah. Yeah, James, I know.” Matt held out his hand. “Nice to meet you again, sir.”

Matt heard Bucky’s heart change. Felt the confusion on his face. “Again?”

Steve nodded, shaking Matt’s hand. “When did you figure it out?” he asked.

“Just now, actually,” Matt replied.  _ No you will not fucking cry in front of Captain America _ , he thought.  _ Not now. Not like this _ . 

But then everything changed, and Steve is taking Bucky’s hand, still interlaced with his own, and he’s moving it into Matt’s. And Bucky is stepping closer to him, aware of and obviously confused by Matt’s distress. 

“But you kept your promise, didn’t you? You’ve been keeping up your end of our deal?”

“I…”

“You’d better be, son.” 

Matt nodded mutely. 

“Good. I’m glad.” Steve released both of their hands and stepped back. “It was good to see you, Buck.” And then he was gone. 

“I don’t understand,” Bucky whispers. “What happened? When did you meet Steve? What deal?”

“That morning,” Matt was still in shock. “That first morning, after your birthday. He… he was the man in the hallway who wished you a happy birthday. He told me… he asked me to take care of you.” Matt turned his face to Bucky. “And I said I would.”

Bucky stared at Matt. He traced a thumb over the blind man’s cheekbone, then leaned in and kissed him. 

The two men were walking arm in arm down 47th Street, back towards Hell’s Kitchen, when Matt held his hand out, stopping Bucky.

“Wait. What…?”

“What’s happening?” Bucky asked, tensing up. 

“Just… hold on. Be quiet.”

Matt heard the voices clearly. The broadcaster. That man calling himself Mysterio. And then Pete:

_ Do it! Execute them all! _

“Oh fuck.” Matt let go of Bucky’s arm, snapping his cane open. “Go find Peter. NOW. Bring him to my office.”

Bucky started to speak but Matt was already moving away from him. 

_ Spider-Man’s real… Spider-Man’s real name…  _ Static…  _ Spider-Man’s real name is Peter Parker!! _

“Just go! FIND HIM!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that!
> 
> Except not because I feel like there is a lot more I would like to say about these two, some of it much less fluffy. My directive here was "MAKE SOMEONE TAKE CARE OF BUCKY" so that is what I have done, but I think we all know Matt is a masochist and I feel like there's a lot more story to tell there. SO! I'm going to make this a part of a series, and then when the muse hits I will add some more. It will not be a continuation of this story (because that would just be me writing what I want Spider-Man 3 to be!!!), but I do have a few more stories that popped into my head while I was writing. Many suggested by you. Also I need to write more of the sitcom that is Frank Castle/Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton (and Rocket?)
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave me comments to let me know what you thought. And if there's anything you want to see in future stories, let me know and I will be happy to oblige. And maybe subscribe to the series? THANK YOU FOR BUILDING UP MY SELF ESTEEM!!!
> 
> Have some pictures of these two men being handsome:
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	22. Teaser: "I Followed Fires"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> Sorry if this is bad form, but I wanted anyone who wasn't aware to be aware that there is a sequel for this happening right now! Heads up, it is darker than this one was...
> 
> Here is a preview!

It had been all hands on deck when Matt’s phone rang. It was James, of course. He had found Peter, but he wasn’t bringing him back to Nelson & Murdock because who he had actually found was Spider-Man and Spider-Man couldn’t be seen with Matt. To make matters worse, Spider-Man was giving one Michelle Jones a web-swinging ride around Midtown, and any idiot could easily find that Michelle Jones was a student at Peter Parker’s school. A little digging might even find that she and Peter Parker were friends. Maybe even more than friends, which was definitely not helpful to their case. And since when did Peter have a girlfriend anyway?  

Matt could kick himself. 

He hadn’t been paying attention. He knew he hadn’t. Peter needed somebody after Tony Stark had died. He had wanted Matt to be that somebody, and Matt had failed him. Even after they had saved James together, Matt had been reluctant to take Pete out patrolling with him. He was a kid! He shouldn’t be out fighting! He should be studying and having girlfriends and going on class vacations.

And maybe, MAYBE if Matt hadn’t told Peter just exactly that so very many times, maybe if Daredevil hadn’t pushed Spider-Man away over and over again, maybe the poor kid would have had more confidence and Quinten Beck wouldn’t have been able to get under his skin like that. Maybe Matt could have stopped the whole thing before it started. Anyone could see that what had occurred - the entire situation with Mysterio - was nobody’s fault but Matt’s.

Catholic guilt at its finest.

But what was done was done. Matt could (and would) feel guilty about it forever, but right now they also needed a plan to move forward. 

“He’s getting on a plane with Happy Hogan as we speak,” Bucky said on the other end of the line. 

“Ok, ok. No that’s good. Thanks, James. What are you…”

“I’m going to go with him,” Bucky answered, before Matt could even finish the sentence. He was in full soldier mode; all action and strategy. “Head back to Avengers HQ. See what I can do from there to help run damage control. Keep the kid protected if nothing else.”

Matt swallowed hard. It made sense, Selfishly, though, he desperately wanted James there with him now, especially with what had happened earlier that day at the exhibit. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He paused, a plan forming. His brain didn’t work as fast as James’s, but he could strategize too. “Hey, do you think Happy would talk to me?” 

“You have a plan?”

“Yeah, maybe. The start of one.”

Matt heard a shuffle on the other end of the line, and then silence. James had muted him. He shifted uncomfortably, aware of Foggy and Karen staring at him.

“Mr. Murdock?” Matt recognized the voice from press conferences.

“Mr. Hogan,” he replied. “Thank you for talking to me.”

“Be quick, ok? We don’t have a lot of extra time here. You’re on speaker-phone with Bucky Barnes and Spider-Man.”

“Of course, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Hogan.” Matt’s mind was racing. “We need the public to see Spider-Man and Peter Parker together, fast. Then we can work on clearing Spider-Man’s name. When that happens, I’d like Nelson & Murdock to represent Pete in any trial or hearing that might be held.”

“Why on earth should I agree to do that,” Happy asked, and Matt could hear him holding in a chuckle of disbelief. “Peter needs the best representation around right now, and frankly that’s not you. You’re a fine defense attorney, Mr. Murdock, I’m assuming. I’ve heard nice things about you. But you’ve got nothing on the team Stark assembled. Pete has all the resources he needs right here. He couldn’t do better.”

“That might be true,” Matt said, even though he didn’t believe it. “But you can’t defend both of them. Spider-Man should have the full resources of the Avengers, including Stark Industry’s legal team. If they can get charges dropped for James, then I’m sure they can do the same for Spider-Man. But Pete should have his own counsel. He doesn’t work for SI anymore; he works for Nelson & Murdock. It doesn’t make sense for your team to represent him. Frankly, Mr. Hogan, it looks bad. It’s another connection that the public can draw between the two of them. We need to keep them separate as much as possible.”

There was a pause. “Is this line secure on your end,” Happy asked after a moment. 

Matt knew his phone was. James had seen to that. He pulled the phone away from his ear, focusing and listening. No bugs in the office. Nobody on their floor or the floor beneath them who could be listening in. Nobody on the roof. He lowered his voice anyway. “Yeah, we’re all good over here.”

“This isn’t the route we’re taking.” Happy’s voice was stern and cold. 

“What do you mean?” Matt asked. 

“Pete’s going to admit that he’s Spider-Man, Matt,” Bucky said. “Then he can address Mysterio’s charges.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s the only way,” Pete said, and his voice told Matt everything Matt needed to know. It sounded small and broken. 

“Is that what you want?” Matt asked Pete, knowing the answer. “They can’t make you do anything, Pete. Don’t let them…”

“It’s not like that,” Pete interrupted. “Happy’s trying to help. This really is the only option.”

“It’s not,” Matt said firmly. “It’s all hearsay. The Bugle has no evidence. If we could show the world Peter Parker and Spider-Man standing next to each other, then they would have no choice but to at least print a retraction and apologize.”

The other end of the line was silent. 

“How do you propose we do that?” Happy finally spoke. “Keep them separate? Have them seen together?”

“I could wear the suit…” Matt began.

“No offense, but that’s not going to work,” Pete interrupted. “You can’t wear the suit.”

“Why not?” Matt asked.

“I mean…” Matt could hear Pete’s voice shaking. “You could wear it, but you couldn’t use the webs. It’s not the same as…” he stopped. 

“It’s fine,” Matt said. All the Avengers knew. Frankly, he was surprised Happy didn’t. “If you trust him, I trust him, right? We’re in this together. We’re a team.” He wished he had said the words before; he wished he had lived up to them.

Matt could hear Pete swallow hard. “It’s not the same as what you do,” Pete continued. “At best you’d dislocate a shoulder. At worst it would tear your arm right out of the socket.”

“Wait what does he do?” Matt heard Happy ask in the background. “I thought he was a blind lawyer.”

“Later,” Bucky answered him.

Matt frowned. “Are you sure? I’m strong, Pete. I can take it.”

“You’re not as strong as I am, Matt.” Pete sounded sad. “You’re strong, but you’re still just a regular guy. Hell, I’m not even sure Bucky could handle the suit. I mean, probably? But it would hurt like hell, and plus it probably wouldn’t fit him anyway. Nobody can wear it except me.”

Matt was silent for a moment, trying to push down his pride. He didn’t need to argue the fact that he was a ‘regular guy.’ It was true. Matt knew it was true. So they needed somebody else. Somebody not regular. He was friends with the Avengers, for fuck sake. Pete and James were Avengers. And yet Pete thought none of them would work? None of them could wear the suit? Who was even less regular than the Aveng…  _Oh shit._ A new plan hit Matt right between the eyes. He hated it.  _Fuck,_ he thought.  _Shit, shit, shit, fuck._ It was a terrible plan. “What…” he paused again. Was he really going to suggest this? “What if I knew someone who could make it work?”

“Matt, nobody can. They’d get hurt…”

“What if I knew somebody who didn’t care if they got hurt?”

“They wouldn’t care if they lost an arm?” Pete was incredulous.

“No, they wouldn’t,” Matt replied.

Silence.

_It’s a terrible fucking plan._

“Matt, who…?” Bucky asked

“It’s not anybody you know. Not anybody I ever wanted you to know. Not anybody you want to meet…”

He could feel Foggy staring at him.

“Is this person the right size?” Happy asked. “The public would believe it was really Spider-Man?”

“He’s the same size as me,” Matt said. “So a little bigger than Pete but close enough.”

“And you think he’d do it, despite the risk?” Pete asked, sounding a little hopeful and still very confused.

“I think he’d do it because of the risk,” Matt said with a sigh.

“Who is this guy? Can we trust him? Why would he help us?” Happy asked.

“You can look him up,” Matt said, resigning himself to the fact that this was probably happening. If Pete was right - if Matt really couldn’t wear the Spidey-Suit - well then he didn’t see how they had many other options available to them. “No, we can’t trust him but I think I can control him. And he’d help us because we’d pay him. We’d have to pay him. We’d probably have to pay him a lot. Hopefully Stark Industries can help with that part? His name is Wade Wilson. He’s a mercenary.” Matt paused. “If you’re not finding him in whatever system you have, check under Deadpool. ”


End file.
